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JAMES FORBES 

THE CHORUS LADY 

THE SHOW SHOP 

^^ 

THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 



THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 

AND OTHER PLAYS 



BY 



JAMES FORBES 



WITH INTRODUCTION BY 

WALTER PRICHARD EATON 




NEW Xar YORK 
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 



ll 



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THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR AND OTHER PLAYS 

WITH INTRODUCTION BY WALTER PRICHARD EATON 

Copyright, 1920, by George H. Doran Company 



THE CHORUS LADY 
Copyright, 1906, by James Forbes 



THE SHOW SHOP 
Copyright, 1914, by James Forbes 



THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 
Copyright, 1919, by James Forbes 



All rights whatever are reserved by the author and no use of this material 
whether in the form of fniblic reading, recitation or representation may be 
made without the permission of the author. Attention is called to the 
penalties provided by law for any infringement of the author's rights, as 
follows: 

"Sec. 4966: — ^Any person publicly performing or representing any 
dramatic or musical composition for which copyright has been obtained, 
without the consent of the proprietor of said dramatic or musical com- 
position, or his heirs and assigns, shall be liable for damages therefor, 
such damages in all cases to be assessed at such sum, not less than one 
hundred dollars for the first and fifty dollars for every subsequent 
performance, as to the court shall appear to be just. If the unlawful 
performance and representation be wilful and for profit, such person 
or persons shall be guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon conviction be im- 
prisoned for a period not exceeding one year." — U. S. Revised Statutes: 
Title 60, Chap. 3- 



g)CI,A804174 ^ 



PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 

NOV 17 1920 



TO 

MY WIFE 

AND TO 

STEPHEN AND GRACE NOYES WRIGHT 

IN GRATEFUL APPRECIATION 

OF THEIR LOVING ENCOURAGEMENT 

AND PITILESS CRITICISM 



INTRODUCTION 

Why print a play? The three plays by Mr. Forbes, col- 
lected in this volume, give, it seems to me, a rather conclusive 
answer. All three of them have been eminently successful 
on the stage, for which, of course, they were primarily in- 
tended, and upon which they must needs be seen, even by 
those trained to read play manuscripts, in order fully to catch 
their flavor or respond to their emotional appeals. Yet 
when they are read in cold print they are seen to vary greatly 
in merit, and what in the stage success of each one was 
dependent upon the extraneous elements of an actor^s 
personality, or the rush of living action that permits the 
spectator no time for pause and reflection, or the passions and 
idiosyncrasies of the day, becomes suddenly clear. There 
is no magic in print. The dramatist who writes, indeed, 
for the page rather than the stage, aspiring to be "literary," 
is merely courting a very proper disaster. Yet the dramatist 
whose plot and personages — their speech, their motives, the 
lesson of their lives — will not stand the calmer and lingering 
scrutiny of the reflective reader, is only a hack writer, after 
all. In the high sense, a drama is "literature" not because 
it can be read with pleasure, but merely because it can endure 
close and reflective scrutiny. From the failure of our theatre 
to keep its successful plays in a repertoire, there is no other 
recourse to the dramatist who challenges such scrutiny — a 
praiseworthy chaflenge, surely — but to print his plays. That 
is why the number of printed plays is a fair indication of the 
serious ambition of our dramatists. 

Of the three plays offered here, "The Chorus Lady," no 
reader will need to be told, can least endure the scrutiny 
print affords. Yet it was enormously successful in our 

vii 



J 



viii INTRODUCTION 

theatre, how successful readers who did not see the original 
production in 1906 may be at some loss to guess. The title 
part was played by Miss Rose Stahl, an actress who brought 
to its impersonation so breezy and crudely wholesome and 
dynamic a personality, tossing off its slang with such un- 
studied and spontaneous zest, that she took the public 
captive. The play, to be sure, had its origin in a magazine 
sketch by Mr. Forbes, and this sketch was expanded into a 
play upon a hint given to him by some picture he saw^-the 
picture of a chorus girl interrupted at a supper by the arrival 
of her obviously rural father and mother. It was not, then, 
"tailored" to Miss Stahl's order. But it certainly fitted 
her as no later play she acted ever did, and the reader of 
today, noting the crudities or triteness of plot, the melo- 
dramatic villain, the poverty and conventionality of essential 
characterization, may well be excused for classing it as a 
successful example of that type of play called "character 
comedy," which is to say, a play in which some one or more 
vivid and entertaining persons are allowed the run of the 
stage, making the most of their eccentricities and thus always 
conditioning the story to immediate theatrical demands. It 
is a type of play flourishing essentially in the theatre, and sel- 
dom enough able to stand up under a reader's scrutiny. The 
stage version of "Rip Van Winkle," so marvelously acted 
by Jefferson, is a poor, shabby thing in print. In spite of 
Mr. Forbes' assertion that he always works from character, 
not from plot or situation, in writing a play, evolving his 
story from the sort of people he is presenting, one can hardly 
escape the conviction that Patricia O'Brien, at least, became 
known to his imagination with her makeup on — ^he saw her 
as an amusing stage figure — and rather found a story to show 
her off than tracked down her actual life. 

"The Show Shop" is stuff of a different metal. The 
present writer thought, when he saw this play first acted, that 
it was a good-natured satire of American stage life, as deftly, 
as truthfully and as humanly done as anything of a similar 
nature in the Continental theatres. A present reading of the 



INTRODUCTION ix 

manucript does not seem to him to call for revision of this 
judgment. Mr. Forbes says that the germ of the comedy- 
was a desire to put the ''stage mother" into a play. This 
desire he has certainly realized; Mrs. Dean, even in print, 
is a formidable object! But how neatly each one of his 
characters is sketched, how diversified they are, how human, 
from the little Hebrew manager who doesn't believe he knows 
how to pick a failure, to the gloomy and unimportant author 
who haunts the flies as his manuscript is slaughtered to make 
an ingenue's holiday. It may well be that the average 
audience is not sufficiently sophisticated to appreciate in full 
either the truthful character pictures or the satire of "The 
Show Shop"; but that is nothing against its technical 
merits. It remains the most pungent, amusing, and yet the 
most kindly satire of stage life and the shams of theatrical 
production, yet written by an American. There can be no 
question in the reader's mind whether this play was tailored 
for an actor or actress. It was quite obviously written out 
of a first hand acquaintance with the characters, who con- 
ditioned the story quite according to their weaknesses and 
amiable failings, as the author felt them. Accordingly, it 
stands up four square under the test of print. 

Mr. Forbes says that after he has become acquainted with 
his characters, knows all about them and their antecedents, 
and has found out what their story is, he is extremely un- 
happy and dissatisfied if he cannot put that story into a 
sentence. The preliminary sentence which summed up, for 
him, "The Famous Mrs. Fair" was, he says, something as 
follows: — "A woman actuated by duty engages in war work, 
winning honors and the loving admiration and encourage- 
ment of her family; but when on her return she, actuated by 
selfish vanity, again leaves them, the realization is brought 
home to her tragically that a wife and mother can have a 
career but not at the expense of her obKgations to her home 
and family." 

That sentence, it seems to me, clears away a good deal of 
the dispute which has gone on regarding this latest and most 



X INTRODUCTION 

serious of Mr. Forbes' plays. Written immediately after 
the World War, it was quite natural that the author chose 
war work as the unselfish career his heroine had been follow- 
ing without disaster to her home, but war work was not 
essential to his story; it might have been something quite 
different. The whole point was that during Mrs. Fair's 
first absence from home she left behind a sustaining devotion, 
and during her second absence this sustaining devotion was 
quite naturally absent. The author did not argue that a 
married woman cannot have a "career" (indeed, he showed 
the son's wife to be quite successfully holding down her 
job), meanwhile contradicting himself by stating that his 
heroine had already followed a career for four years. Critics 
of the play have assumed a contradiction that does not exist — 
possibly because Mr. Forbes has, in reality, not argued at 
all, but merely told his story and left all to inference; not 
always a safe proceeding in this world so dependent on sign 
boards. It does not appear from a reading of the play that 
Mrs. Fair was anything more than an ordinarily capable 
woman, as her family were certainly nothing more than 
ordinary folk. Under the impetus of the war, Mrs. Fair 
became a hero — war makes many heroes out of ordinary 
material — and her family, in one way or another, were moved 
by exactly the same impetus to transcend the normal. The 
play began with the coming back to normal, the very com- 
monplace normal of the Fair family. The real trouble 
seemed to be that Mrs. Fair never knew she was common- 
place. The woman who, under normal conditions, can look 
after a "career" and a family at the same time, doing justice 
to both, is exceptional; she cannot be commonplace, for she 
has got to furnish to her flock the same sustaining stimulus 
that war had previously furnished to the Fairs. One rather 
suspects that Mrs. Fair's daughter-in-law had capacities in 
that direction, for she possessed the hard common sense 
and direct vision which come from contact with realities, 
a privilege denied to the wealthy. Certainly there is no 
evidence in this play that Mr. Forbes believes it cannot be 



INTRODUCTION xi 

done, that he is an anti-feminist. All he says is, that Mrs. 
Fair, under normal conditions, was too shallow and vain a 
woman to do it, and by a set of almost tragic circumstances 
he brought the lesson home to her and put her on the possible 
road to finding an ultimate solution. Why, then, should 
many spectators have felt his play did not hold together? 
Perhaps the trouble is that we have been so accustomed of 
late to direct preachment in our serious drama that we are 
a bit bewildered when the preaching is done by the more 
artistic method of a story without footnotes. 

At any rate, such controversies as have followed the pro- 
duction of "The Famous Mrs. Fair" were quite impossible 
over "The Chorus Lady." In the thirteen years which 
elapsed between the composition of those two plays, it is 
quite evident that Mr. Forbes considerably deepened his 
conception of what he means by "character," moving from 
the superficial to the fundamental, from externals to internals, 
from mannerisms to manners. He has thus moved from a 
play which suffers severely under the test of print to one which 
can meet the test with the assurance born of a reasoned 
reflection on life and human motives. One wishes that from 
this individual case, he could draw an analogy taking in the 
whole field of American drama; that he could say it is with 
all our playwrights as it is with Mr. Forbes. But such a 
statement, alas! would be the measure of hope rather than 
judgment. 

Walter Prichard Eaton. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Chorus Lady . . . . . . "\ . 17 

The Show Shop .... . • .'^_. . 93 

The Famous Mrs. Fair .... • f . • 203 



XIU 



THE CHORUS LADY 

A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS 



THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY 

Patricia O'Brien 
Nora O'Brien 
Mrs. O'Brien 
Patrick O'Brien 
Dan Mallory 
Dick Crawford 
Sylvia Simpson 
Georgie Adams Coote 
MiLLY Sultzer 
Inez Blair 
Evelyn LaRue 
Lou Archer 
Rita Nichols 
Mai Delaney 
Rogers 
The Duke 
Jakey 
Shrimp 
A Call Boy 
A Laundryiman 

The Scenes of the First Act are laid in the home of the 
trainer at the Mallory Racing Stables, on Long Island, 
in the month of November; those of the succeeding acts 
occur in New York City between the hours of 7:45 and 
midnight of an evening in the following April, beginning in 
a dressing room of the Longacre Theatre, continuing in 
the apartment of Richard Crawford, and concluding in 
the Harlem flat occupied by Patricia and Nora O'Brien. 



THE CHORUS LADY 

Original cast, as first presented at the Savoy Theatre, 
New York, September ist, 1906. 

It is arranged in the order in which the characters first 
speak. 

Mrs. O'Brien Alice Leigh 

Nora O'Brien Eva Dennison 

Shrimp George Colton 

The Duke Thomas Magtdre 

Jakey Frank Fay 

Patrick O'Brien .... Giles Shine 

Dick Crawford .... Frank Byrne 

Patricia O'Brien .... ROSE STAHL 

Dan Mallory Wilfred Lucas 

MiLLY SuLTZER .... Amy Lesser 

Inez Blair Claire Lane 

Evelyn LaRue .... Helen Hilton 

Rita Nichols Annie Ives 

Lou Archer Margaret Wheeler 

Mai Delaney Carolyn Green 

Georgie Adams Coote . . Amy Lee 

A Call Boy Thomas Maguire 

Sylvia Simpson .... Maude Knoidton 

A Laundryman .... George Colton 

Rogers Thomas Lawrence 



THE CHORUS LADY 



THE FIRST ACT 

The kitchen in the home of Patrick O'Brien, the trainer 
of the MaUory Racing Stables. It is a low ceilinged 
room with a long recessed window at the back through 
which can be seen a bleak, November landscape. In 
an angle at the right of the room is a large chimney, 
its huge old-time fireplace filled now with a kitchen 
range, in which a fire is lighted. Beside the fireplace 
is a door opening into a hall in which are the stairs. 
Across the hall is the parlor. There is another door in 
the rear wall to the right of the window. It opens on 
to a porch. On the left wall is a dresser for china and 
a kitchen smk. Above the sink hangs a small mirror, 
a towel rack and a dishpan. In the centre of the room 
is a large table. There are a half dozen kitchen chairs 
with rush seats, an armchair and a rocking chair. The 
room serves as kitchen, dining-room and living-room, 
and with its freshly starched white window curtains, its 
shining pots and pans is the ''pink" of neatness. 

Shrimp, Jakey, The Duke, stable-boys and Mrs. O'Brien, 
the wife of the trainer, are seated at breakfast. 
Shrimp and Jakey are products of New York's East 
Side; The Duke is a cockney importation, an ex- 
jockey. Mrs. O'Brien is a stout motherly soul in the 
fifties clad in a maroon-coloured merino dress over 
which is a large kitchen apron. The boys are gob- 
bling their food, Mrs. O'Brien heaping their plates 
with hash, 

17 



18 THE CHORUS LADY [act i 

Mrs. O'Brien. [Calling.] Nora — No — ra — Nora, are 
yees asleep? 

Nora. [Outside.'] Ye-es. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Then stir yourself. 

Nora [Outside.] Yes, yes, I'm coming. 

[Nora, Mrs. O'Brien's daughter, a very pretty girl 
of eighteen, comes in sulkUy. 

Nora. [Peevishly.] A person can't get time to dress in 
this house. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Dress, is it? It's primpin' ye were, and 
for a lot o' stable boys. 

Nora. Stable boys! The idea! Dirty little brats! 

Mrs. O'Brien. The airs of her! Look to the boys, now, 
while I go skim a pan of milk. 

[She takes a pitcher jro^m the table and goes outside, 
Nora gets the coffee pot from the stove and pours 
herself a cup of coffee. 

Nora. Shrimp, who won this morning? 

Shrimp. Ginger, wid de Duke up. 

Nora. Who was on Lady Belle? 

Shrimp. Me. Wuz you in wrong? 

Nora. You've lost me five dollars to the Duke and I'll 
never speak to you again. 

Shrimp. At dat if she hadn't been forced to de deep 
goin' on de rail I'd a bodered de Duke a few. 

The Duke. You'd bothered me a few. You'd bally well 
have to know 'ow to sit a mount, old top, afore you can 
bother the Duke. 

Shrimp. Ah you I [To Nora.] And Jakey tangled me 
at de start. 

Jakey. Tangled nuttin'. Don't go tryin' to queer me 
cuz you's an onion. 

Nora. [To Shrimp.] You nearly made a nice mess of 
things. For two pins I'd shake you good. 

The Duke. [Rising.] Let me 'ave the pleasure. 

Shrimp. Just try it once. 

The Duke. You ain't fit to 'andle. [Going to Nora.] 



ACT i] THE CHORUS LADY 19 

I say you know I don't want to be too pressin', but I needs 
the coin. 

Nora. You'll have to wait a while. 
The Duke. See 'ere, are you welchin'? 
Nora. Haven't I always paid you? 
The Duke. Can't you get it from Pat? 
Nora. I promised her the last time I wouldn't ever bet 
again. 

The Duke. I say, think I'm going to get out there an' 
ride like 'ell for nothing? 

Shrimp. See here, "old top," that's no way to talk to a 
goil. 

Jakey. Give him de rinky dink, Nora. 

[The Duke folds his fist and looks threateningly at 
Shrimp, who glares at him. 
The Duke. I'll tell your father meself. 
Nora. Go on, tell him. 

[She bursts into tears. Shrimp rises and goes to 
The Duke. 
Shrimp. Say kid, stop abusin' de loidy. 

[The Duke makes a pass at Shrimp who retttrns it. 

Jakey rises to watch the fight which is interrupted 

by the return of Mrs. O'Brien carrying the pitcher 

of milk. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Stop your scrappin', or you'll regret it 

fer it's no breakfast you'll get. 

[The boys scurry to their places. Nora and Mrs. 
O'Brien sit at opposite ends of the table. All re- 
sume their breakfast. 
Shrimp. Look at de Duke, eatin' wid a fork. Trowin' 
on a lot of lugs cuz he wins five dollars. 

Mrs. O'Brien. What's that? Who won five dollars? 

Jakey. De Duke. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Who off a? 

[There is a pause and the boys look covertly at Nora. 
Mrs. O'Brien, who is filling the glasses with milk, 
stops. She looks at the boys, then at Nora. 



20 THE CHORUS LADY [act i 

Mrs. O'Brien. Nora, have you been bettin' again? 

Nora. [Innocently.] Me? I'd like to know where I'd 
get five dollars. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Well, I'm thankful. I don't want an- 
other row on me hands, an' you know well what happened 
last time your father caught ye gamblin' on the trials. 

Nora. Shrimp, who was that man at the stables, with 
Mr. Mallory, this morning? 

Shrimp. De one dat was watchin' de trials? 

Nora. Yes. 

Shrimp. Soich me. 

Nora. [Coquettishly.] What like a looking man was he? 
Handsome? 

The Duke. Fair lookin', if you likes ^em big an' mushy. 
[Rising and striking an attitude.] Most wimmen I've 
knowed preferred 'em small an' jaunty. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Ye'd better keep them complimentary 
remarks to yerself. He's your new boss. 

Nora. Is that Mr. Crawford? 

Mrs. O'Brien. None else. 

The Duke. 'Oo's 'e? 

Mrs. O'Brien. He's Mr. Mallory^s new partner, an' see 
you don't be makin' O'Brien blush fer yees. 

[The outside door opens to admit Patrick O'Brien. 
He is in the sixties, spare of figure, with a kindly hu- 
morous face. He is in corduroys. Before going to 
the table he hangs up his cap. 

O'Brien. Still at it, are ye? It's lucky I'm here, or it's 
no breakfast I'd be havin'. 

The Duke. The 'ash is uncommon fine, sir. Could I 
trouble you, Mrs. O'Brien? 

[He holds out his plate. O'Brien takes it from him 
and lays it on the table. 

O'Brien. You've had enough. Off with the lot of ye. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Oh, Patrick, lave the poor darlin's have 
their fill! 

O'Brien. All right. Oh, mother, Danny and Mr. Craw- 



ACT i] THE CHORUS LADY 21 

ford's goin' to stop on their way back from the stables for 
a cup of your coffee. 

Mrs. O'Brien. [Indignantly.] It's a wonder you 
wouldn't say so. Skedaddle, the lot of ye. Do you want 
to be eatin' all day? 

[The boys grab their caps and run out. Nora, unob- 
served y darts into the hall and runs upstairs. Mrs. 
O'Brien bustling about placing chairs against the 
wall approaches O'Brien, who has just sat down to 
eat his breakfast. 

O'Brien. Oh, wife 

Mrs. O'Brien. Don't be talkin', Patrick. Take your 
plate in your lap. [O'Brien does so meekly.'] It's a 
fresh place I must be layin' for Mr. Crawford. [Calling.] 
Nora, No-ra. She's primpin' agen. 

[She gets the coffee mill. 
O'Brien. Lave her be. Don't be naggin' her. 
Mrs. O'Brien. [Coming to him.] When I need your ad- 
vice about me own child I'll ask for it. Give this a twist 
while yer idlin'. 

[She hands him the coffee mill. O'Brien is indig- 
nant. He has not had a chance to have a mouth ftd 
of food. 
O'Brien. Where's Nora? [Calling.] Nora — come here 
an' help your mother. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Lave the child alone. It's the queer 
girl she'd be, if she didn't want to spruce up a bit when 
a strange young man comes callin'. 

[Nora comes in. 
Nora. [Peevishly.] Well, what do you want now? 

[O'Brien offers the mUl to Nora. 
Mrs. O'Brien. Grind that coffee yourself, Patrick. [To 
Nora.] I want you to lay a fresh place for Mr. Crawford. 
[Nora and Mrs. O'Brien begin to remove the break- 
fast dishes. O'Brien sits grinding the coffee. 
Nora. [Sulkily.] More work. 
Mrs. O'Brien. "More work!'^ An' why not? You're 



22 THE CHORUS LADY [act i 

a workin' man's daughter. Don't I work? Doa't your 
sister work? Poor girl! 

Nora. Poor girl! I'd like to trade places with her. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Oh, you would, would you? An' who's 
goin' to give you a job on the stage? Sure, you can't sing 
nor dance like Patricia? You're the spit of your father. 
[Proudly.] It's me Pat takes after. 

Nora. I'm lots prettier than she is. 

Mrs. O'Brien. [Mockingly.] You an^ your father set- 
tin' up to be the beauties of the family. 

Nora. Pat says if she had my face she'd have every 
soubrette on Broadway beat a mile. I don't think it's fair 
to expect me to spend my life waiting hand and foot on 
a lot of stable boys, an' Pat having all the clothes she wants 
and off enjoying herself. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Ain't she always sendin' you things? 

Nora. [Scomjtily.] Cast-offs! 

Mrs. O'Brien. You ungrateful girl. An' do you call 
gallivantin' all over the country with the "Moonlight 
Maids" enjoyment? 

Nora. I'd like to try it for a change. An' if I have to 
earn my living 

Mrs. O'Brien. What talk have ye? What's this about 
earnin' a livin'? 

[She looks with suspicion at O'Brien, who is confused. 

Nora. Daddy said I'd soon have need to be thinking 
of it. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Oh, he did, did he? Let him pay at- 
tention to his horses, I'll run me children. Nora, get the 
butter. [Nora goes.] It's you that spoilin' her, puttin' 
this nonsense in her head about goin' on the stage. 

[She jerks the coffee mMl out of his hand. 

O'Brien. [Rising.] Oh, the idea's not a bad on. It's 
good money Pat's earnin'. 

Mrs. O'Brien. I misdoubt Nora's knowin' how. 

O'Brien. What talk have you? Sure, actin's no trick 
at all. I've seen babies do it. 



ACT i] THE CHORUS LADY 23 

Mrs. O'Brien. [Sitting.] Sure it's glib ye are to have 
them leave me. [Crying.] No one thinks of a mother's 
heart. Me baby's goin' away from me. 

O'Brien. [Going to her.] Whist, woman, whist, she, 
ain't gone yet! 

Mrs. O'Brien. [Wailing.] But she will. 

O'Brien. [Annoyed.] Whist! Sure, Mr. Crawford '11 
be here any minute. I don't want him to think I've been 
abusin' ye. 

Mrs. O'Brien. [Cmosity getting the better of grief.] 
What sort is this Crawford? 

O'Brien. I've took a dislike to him. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Then God preserve us all. Ye'U glory 
in showin' it. 

O'Brien. I'm learnin' diplomacy. 

Mrs. O'Brien. It's high time. Use a bit of it now and 
then. Was it you invited him over? 

Mr. O'Brien. It was not. He's comin' for a cup of 
coffee to take the chill off. 

Mrs. O'Brien. [Proudly.] I suppose you was braggin' 
about me coffee. 

O'Brien. I was not. 

Mrs. O'Brien. [Angrily.] An' why not? You might 
know you'd never say a good word for a body. 

O'Brien. It was Mallory. 

Mrs. O'Brien. [Smiling.] My boy, Dan, bless his heart. 
[Steps are heard outside.] That's Crawford. Now smile, 
though you could choke him. 

[Dick Crawford appears at the door. He is a hand- 
some man of thirty-five, and has great charm of man- 
ner, but IS rather a "bounder" and somewhat 
"sporty^' in attire. O'Brien greets him. 

O'Brien. Come right in, sir, an' welcome. Wife, this is 
Mr. Crawford. 

Mrs. O'Brien. 'Tis an honour to know you. Where's 
Danny boy? 

O'Brien. She means Mallory, 'Tis foolish she is about 



24 THE CHORUS LADY [act i 

him. [Nora enters.] Mr. Crawford, this is my daughter. 

Mrs. O'Brien. [Smiling.] She's the baby. 

Nora. [Embarrassed.] Oh, mother. [To Crawford.] 
Where is Dan? 

Crawford. He was detained at the stable. 

O'Brien. Nora, take Mr. Crawford's coat. [Nora hangs 
it up.] Draw up your chair, Mr. Crawford. Wife, pour the 
coffee. 

Crawford. I'm afraid you've been put to a lot of 
trouble, Mrs. O'Brien. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Sure, I like to fuss for any man that ap- 
preciates it. 

[She looks meanmgly at O'Brien, who smUes sarcas- 
tically at her. 

Crawford. Mallory will be right along. 

[He politely passes the cup Mrs. O'Brien has fitted 
to O'Brien who is seated at the table. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Keep that. O'Brien's had his breakfast. 

Crawford. Oh, you've breakfasted, O'Brien? 

O'Brien. So she says. 

Crawford. [Politely.] Is this all of your family, Mrs. 
O'Brien? 

Nora. Oh, no, there's Pat. 

Crawford. Oh, a son. 

Mrs. O'Brien. No, it's her sister Patricia. Nora, run 
an' get her photograph for the gentleman. Get the one 
in costume. 

Nora. [Going to the door to the hall.] Where is it? 

Mrs. O'Brien. It's in the lower drawer. Lift up the 
waist of my black silk. It's wrapped in the Paisley shawl. 

O'Brien. And, Nora, look in me hat box, you'll find a 
couple. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Father, the man'll think you're daft. 
Sure, one's enough. 

Crawford. Not at all. I'm very much interested. 

Mrs. O'Brien. All right, Nora. [Nora goes.] Pat- 



ACT i] THE CHORUS LADY 25 

rick, you may as well step into the parlour and bring the 
crayon enlargement. 

[O'Brien, delighted, follows Nora. 
Crawford. Pat is rather an odd name for a girl. 
Mrs. O'Brien. She's named for Patrick. 
Crawford. Oh, I see, a sort of a substitute for a son? 
Mrs. O'Brien. A substitute, is it? Sure, I wouldn't 
take a half a dozen of the lovin' sons me friends has for 
the likes of Pat. 

[Nora enters, with the photographs wrapped in tissue 
paper. She gives them to Mrs. O'Brien. O'Brien 
follows with the crayon enlargement, which he dis- 
plays proudly in all lights and positions. It is a 
fearful wffair. Crawford looks at it, starts to laugh. 
They look at him. He coughs, 
Crawford. [Quickly.'] She must be a very pretty girl. 
O'Brien. [Proudly.'] I've seen homelier. 

[He moves the picture into what he thinks is a better 

position. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Don't be squidgin^ it an' bobbin' it. You 

fair 4azzle one. [Critically.] It's a rale deceivin' thing. 

WheA she's away from me I think it's the livin' image of 

her, but when she's alongside, I 

Crawford. It's the difference in the colouring. 
Nora. Pat says it gives her the "Willies." 
Mrs. O'Brien. [Proudly.] It's real plush on the frame. 
[O'Brien smootlts it.] Don't be rumplin' it. You'd bet- 
ter put it down before you break the glass. 

[He puts it down. Crawford looks at the photo- 
graphs which Mrs. O'Brien has given him. 
Crawford. Oh, taken in fancy costume. 
Mrs. O'Brien. No, them's her workin' clothes. 

[Crawford looks at O'Brien inquiringly. 
Nora. Pat's on the stage. 
Crawford. Oh, an actress. 

O'Brien. [Very proudly.] Oh, not at all. She's a Queen 
of Burlesque. 



26 THE CHORUS LADY [act i 

Mrs. O'Brien. [Impressively.] With the "Moonlight 
Maids." 

Nora. Perhaps you've heard of them? 

Crawford. [Lying.] Oh, yes, yes, a very fine com- 
pany, lots of clever people. 

O'Brien. They pays Pat twenty a week. 

Mrs. O'Brien. An' her costumes. 

Crav^ford. [Examining the photographs.] Oh, they 
won't amount to much. 

[The O'Brien family puzzled, look at one another, 

Mrs. O'Brien. I've seen few grand ladies with finer silks 
on their backs. 

O'Brien. Sure the stockings are all silk and that long. 
[He indicates their length. Mrs. O'Brien, shocked, 
reproves him. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Patrick! take the crayon into the par- 
lour. Put it back on the aisel, an' be sure you put the 
cloth over it. 

[O'Brien goes, carrying the picture carefully. Jakey 
rushes in with a telegram. 

Jakey. A telegram for Mrs. O'Brien. 

[He gives it to Mrs. O'Brien and goes. 

Mrs. O'Brien. A telegram. [She holds it in her hand, 
looks at it, turns it over, then without opening it, clasps it 
to her breast and begins to wail.] She's killed! She's 
killed! Oh, the black day I let me Pat go trapsin' all over 
the country. 

O'Brien. [Running in excitedly.] What ails ye? 

Mrs. O'Brien. I have a telegram, a telegram. She's 
killed! She's killed! 

Crav^ford. Wouldn't it be as well to open it? 

O'Brien. [Grabbing it.] Woman, give it to me. 

[He opens it. 

Mrs. O'Brien. [Grabbing it.] How dare ye be open- 
in' a telegram addressed to me? 

Nora. Oh! Is she alive? 

Mrs. O'Brien. Praise be. She is. It's signed "Pat." 



ACT i] THE CHORUS LADY 27 

Nora. What does she say? 

Mrs. O'Brien. [Reading.'] "Show's on the pazaz, 
comin' on the 7:06. Me for home and mother. Pat." 
[Turning upon O'Brien.] Wake up, Patrick O'Brien. 
Half past seven an' your poor child waitin' in a cold daypo, 
an' you standin' there like the ninny ye are. 

O'Brien. [Wildly excited.'] Nora, where's me overcoat? 
Wife, where's me hat? You'll excuse me, sir, I must go 
hitch up. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Hold your horses. You'll go ask Danny 
to meet her. It's dyin' glad o' the chance he'll be. I've 
use for you here. 

O'Brien. [Indignantly.] And what '11 Nora be doin'? 

Mrs. O'Brien. Nora'll be entertainin' Mr. Crawford. 

[She rises. 

Crawford. Oh, you mustn't let me interfere. 

[He rises. 

Mrs. O'Brien. It's a man's work. 

O'Brien. [Very stdkUy.] What work? 

Mrs. O'Brien. If you must compel me to reveal the se- 
crets of the home, the spare room bed's to be put up. 

O'Brien. I'll go tell Mallory. 

Nora. Tell him to hurry here. 

Mrs. O'Brien. He'll do that, never fear. Tell him to 
hurry back. 

[O'Brien gets his cap and goes. 

Crawford. I fear I am in the way. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Not at all, Mr. Crawford. Stop an' have 
a bit chat with Nora. She'll have the chance to say a word 
for herself now her mother's lavin' the room. 

[She goes. Nora begins to "clear'' the table. 

Crawford. So it's your sister and Mallory, eh? I must 
congratulate him. 

Nora. Isn't Dan nice? He'll make such a good husband, 
and Mom says, good husbands are awful scarce. 

Crawford. I wouldn't worry about that, if I were you. 

Nora. I'm not. I'm goin' on the stage. 



28 THE CHORUS LADY [act i 

Crawford. [Satirically.'] It's not a bad place to get husr- 
bands these days. 

Nora. I'm not going on the stage to get married. 

Crawford. [Amtised.'] Oh, I see, for fame. 

Nora. No, indeed. For twenty dollars a week. Just 
think of all the pretty clothes you could buy for that. 

Crawford. Can you? I wish I had known it. 

Nora. Pat says I ought to stay at home, that I don't 
know when I'm well off. 

Crawford. I fear that I agree with Pat. 

[Nora begins to fold the tablecloth. Crawford goes 
to her to help her. 

Nora. That's all very well, but how'd you like to wear 
your sister's old dresses? 

Crawford. I don't think I would like it. 

Nora. There, you see, Pat or no Pat, I'm going to New 
York. 

Crawford. You might not like it. 

Nora. Not like New York! The idea! Why even Pat, 
who loves the country, says New York's the one best bet. 

Crawford. It's a pretty good little town. [Meafdngly.'] 
Yet I haven't enjoyed myself so much in a long while as I 
did this morning. 

[He advances with the cloth and as he hands it to 
Nora, takes her hands in his. Nora, embarrassed, 
shyly moves away from him. 

Nora. Did you see all the horses? Which one did you 
like most? 

Crawford. They're a fine string. Still, I think Lady 
Belle took my eye. 

Nora. Isn't she a little beauty? I love her, but she 
doesn't get any sugar from me this morning. 

Crawford. No? Why not? 

Nora. Because she lost me five dollars to the Duke. 

Crawford. Oh, the little English boy! Do you bet? 

Nora. [Imptdsively.'] I love to. But I shouldn't have 
told you that. 



ACT i] THE CHORUS LADY 29 

Crawford. Why not? 

Nora. It might hurt father in your eyes. 

Crawford. How? 

Nora. He thinks it dishonourable for any of us, he being 
a trainer, to put money on a horse. I don't know what he'd 
do if he found out I'd disobeyed him again. 

Crawford. I won't tell him. 

Nora. But the Duke will, if I don't pay him. I don't 
know what I'm going to do. 

Crawford. Let me lend it to you? 

Nora. Oh, Mr. Crawford. I wasn't hinting. I couldn't 
think of taking money from you. What would father say 
if he found out? 

Crawford. He needn't know. 

Nora. [Hesitatingly.] You're a stranger. 

Crawford. Surely, as I am to be Mallory's partner, I am 
also going to be a friend of the family. 

Nora. Yes, of course, I suppose so. You aren't quite a 
stranger. I hate to tell father or Pat. You're sure it would 
be all right for a girl to borrow money from a gentleman? 

Crawford. Certainly. 

Nora. Of course I would pay you back. 

Crawford. Don't let that worry you. 

[He takes a roll of bills frofrp Ms pocket. Mrs. 
O'Brien's voice is heard outside. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Nora! 

Nora. Oh, don't let her see. 

[Mrs. O'Brien enters. 

Mrs. O'Brien. You'll have to dust the parlour. Oh, Mr. 
Crawford, I thought 

Crawford. [Putting the money in his pocket.} You 
thought I was gone. I'm just going. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Sure, I'm not meanin' to drive you away. 
You'll come back later. It's proud I'd be to introduce you 
to Pat. 

Crawford. I shall be delighted to come back. Good-bye 
for the present. 



so THE CHORUS LADY [act i 

[He smiles at Nora as he goes. Nora gets the duster 
and starts to leave the room, 
Mrs. O'Brien. [Eagerly.'] What was he sayin' to you? 
Nora. Oh, nothing much. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Sure, he was a long time sayin' it. What 
were you talkin' about? 
Nora. Pat and the horses. 
Mrs. O'Brien. What about them? 
Nora. [Impatiently.'] Oh, nothing much. 

[She goes. 
Mrs. O'Brien. [Annoyed.] Nora, it's maddenin' ye are. 
Here I am starvin' for a bit of news and the best I get is 
"nothin' much." 

[Grumbling J she follows Nora into the hall, closing 
the door. There is a slight pause, then a voice is 
heard outside calUng ^'Oohoo." In a moment it is 
repeated and a figurs is seen to pass the window. 
The door is thrown open and Patricia O'Brien 
enters. She is vivid, magnetic and, unmistakably, the 
"seasoned" chorus girl. Perched on an elaborate 
coiffure of bleached blonde hair is a large picture 
hat. She wears a short, tightly-fitting coat of tan 
cloth and a trailing skirt of black satin. Around her 
throat and tied in a flaring bow is a scarf of pink 
tulle. She carries a dress suit case and an umbrella. 
She looks about the empty room and her expression 
of happy anticipation gives place to one oj disap- 
pointed annoyance. 
Pat. Well, wouldn't this frost you? Me havin' to beat it 
all the way from the daypo' an' then not a soul to hand 
me the welcome mit. I usta think I was the big screech in 
this family but looks like I'm the false alarm. [She goes 
to the door at the left and throws it open.] Mom! 

Mrs. O'Brien. [Upstairs.] Nora, 'tis Pat, 'tis Pat. 
Hurry, Nora. 

Pat. [Witheringly.] Don't hurry on my accoimt. 

[She assumes a manner of spurioi^ elegance and moves 



ACT i] THE CHORUS LADY SI 

away with a '^stagey air of tragic dignity, as Mrs. 
O'Brien enters. 
Mrs. O'Brien. Oh, Pat, me darlin', me darlin'. 

[Ske throws her arms around Pat, who submits to the 
embrace. 
Nora. [Running in.] Pat, dear, I'm so glad. 

[She kisses her, 
Pat. [Half crying.] Someone might 'a' met me. 
Nora. Wasn't there anyone at the train? 
Mrs. O'Brien. Where was Danny? 
Pat. Don't speak his name. Didn't you get my wire 
sayin' as I'd be here on the seven six? 

Nora. Yes, but it wasn't deHvered until half-past seven 
this morning. 
Pat. Half-past seven? Wouldn't that scald you? 
Mrs. O'Brien. An' Danny rushed right away for the 
train. He musta missed you. 

Pat. Looks that way. [SmUing.] I'm sorry I was so 
grouchy, but I'm so temperamental. 

[She removes her hat and coat, Nora takes them. 
Mrs. O'Brien goes to her. 
Mrs. O'Brien. There, there, Pat. I don't blame ye. 
Sure, 'twas a cold welcome ye had from yer loved ones! 

[Pat smiles and kisses her, 
Pat. I had it all framed up. Me descendin' from the 
caboose an' fallin' on everybody's neck, an' wen I got off 
the train the only neck in sight belongs to that village cut- 
up as propels the hack. 
Mrs. O'Brien. 'Twas a black shame. 
Pat. Wait! The worst is yet to come. I'd .been handin' 
it out all season to that bunch of frails in the company 
about my finance as owned a racin' stable an' 'at I wired 
him to meet me. An' wen that rabbit-faced hackman comes 
up and hands out his mit to me — ^well, never to my dyin' 
day will I forget the way that bunch of burlesquers hands 
me the merry "ha, ha!" 



S2 THE CHOHUS LADY [act i 

Mrs. O'Brien. Ye poor lamb! 

[She sits, 

Pat. Where's Pop? 

Mrs. O'Brien. Nora, go find your father. 

[Nora goes. Pat comes down to her mother and put- 
ting her arms around her, kisses her. 

Pat. Gee, it's good to get home again. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Patsy, dear, it's your mother that misses 
you sorely. 

Pat. [Imitating her mother's brogue.] Sure, I'll soon be 
Mrs. Mallory an' won't be lavin' you at all, at all. 

Mrs. O'Brien. You'll be havin' to wait a while. 

Pat. Wait a while? 

Mrs. O'Brien. Hasn't Danny told you? 

Pat. Told what? 

Mrs. O'Brien. He's had to take a partner. 

Pat. I knew he got bumped bad at Sheepshead, but he 
never told me nothin' about a partner. Who is he? 

Mrs. O'Brien. Mr. Crawford. Your father says Danny'll 
get little out of the stable but his board and keep. 

Pat. Ain't that punk luck? 

[Nora runs on, j allowed by O'Brien. 

O'Brien. .Hello, Pat. 

Pat. [Rushing to him.] Hello, Pop. [She throws her 
arms around him, then holds him away from her, looking at 
him.] Say, Mom, he's gettin' fat. 

O'Brien. You're lookin' fine, girl. 

Pat. I feel immense. 

[She sits. The others cluster around her ta hear the 
news. 

O'Brien. What happened to your show? 

Pat. The financial party as was back a the "Moonlight 
Maids" got chilblains. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Poor creature, where did he catch them? 

Pat. In the box-office. 

O'Brien. [Laughing.] She had you there, mother. 



ACT i] THE CHORUS LADY S3 

Mrs. O'Brien. Wasn't the play comical? 

Pat. I never noticed anyone laff themselves to death. 
The comedians was a couple of morgues. The best joke in 
the show was the star, one of them hand-made blondesi 
She was in the original "Black Crook" company an' she had 
a daughter at school then. I called the toin on the show at 
rehoisal, but the manager was one a them bull-headed guys 
that knowed it all. 

Nora. Was that all there was in the company? 

Pat. No, there was a couple o' song-and-dance kikes, a 
team a acrobats, a troupe a moth-eaten dogs, an' a chorus 
that looked like the Chamber-maids' Union. 

Nora. Wasn't the scenery nice? 

Pat. [Patronisingly.'] Yes, the scenery was nice, an' I 
made a great personal success. I had three lines in the 
after piece. 

O'Brien. What are you goin' to do? 

Pat. I gotta get back to New York tomorrow. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Oh! Pat, lavin' me so soon? Can't you 
stop a bit? 

Pat. Mom, I can't keep men like Henry W. Savage an' 
Klaw & Erlanger waitin' to know what I'm goin' to do. 

Nora. Will you play a part in the play? 

Pat. That depends on the part. Like as not I'll just go 
back in the chorus. What's the use a bein' ambitious? Only 
makes you uncomfortable in your mind. I've thought some 
a going into vodeville. I've a friend that's close to B. F. 
Keith's stenographer, an' he thought he could book me some 
dates. Maybe I'll frame up a sister act. 

Nora. [Delighted.] Oh, Pat, a sister act. You're going 
to take me? 

Pat. Why, honey lamb, you couldn't do a toin in vode- 
ville. The stage is no place for you. 

Nora. [Furiously.'} You needn't think you're the only 
person in this family that can do anything. I'll just show 
you. You're jealous because I'm better looking than you 



S4. THE CHORUS LADY [act i 

are. I'll go in the chorus, too, just to spite you, you see if 
I don't. 

[She runs out of the room, raging. 

Pat. [Rising.'] Why, Nora! Honey lamb! [She turns 
to her mother.'] Mom, you haven't been encouraging her? 
Pop, you won't let her go? 

[O'Brien and Mrs. O'Brien exchange guilty looks. 

O'Brien. She's got to be thinkin' of eamin' her livin'. 

Pat. [Firmly.] Nix for the stage, Pop. She ain't wise 
to takin' care of herself. 

Mrs. O'Brien. What d'ye mean, Pat? 

Pat. I mean I don't want my little sister in the chorus. 

O'Brien. If it ain't fit for Nora, it ain't fit for you, an' 
it's here you'll stay. 

Pat. [To O'Brien.] The chorus is all right, all right. 
It's like every thin' else: it depends on the kind of person 
that goes in it. [To Mrs. O'Brien.] An' she's so sweet! 
It seems a shame she can't stay home till she marri^ some 
nice fella. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Sure you done well. 

Pat. I'm different. I'm wise. I can tell the goods from 
the phoney every time. 

Mrs. O'Brien. [Going to Pat.] Couldn't you teach 
Nora? 

Pat. I'd just as lief she wouldn't learn. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Ah, Pat, me darlin', you're forgettin'. It's 
a lesson women must learn, somehow, somewhere. Better 
you nor someone else to stand by an' watch she ain't 
harmed. 

Pat. That's right. [A noise of a cart is heard approach- 
ing. A man's voice calls to the horse, "Whoa, girl."] I've 
a hunch that's Dan. Skidoo, Pop. [She kisses him and 
shoves him to the door. O'Brien goes.] Thai goes for you, 
Mom. Guess I don't need no chaperoney. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Sure, I'd trust you anywhere. Ain't you 
good as gold? 

Pat. Gee, Mom, you're there strong with the blarney. 



ACT i] THE CHORUS LADY 35 

[Mrs. O'Brien goes, Pat runs across to the mirror, 

fixes her hair, 
Dan. [Outside.'] Where is she? 
O'Brien. [Outside.'] In there, 

[Dan Mallory, a splendid specimen of out-door 
manhood, rushes in and before Pat can say a word 
he has her in his arms, kissing her. 
Pat. Say, do you know you're takin' my breath away? 
Dan. Am I? 
Pat. I'm supposed to have a mad at you. 

[She moves away. 
Dan. [Following her.] Are you? 

[He takes her in his arms again. She snuggles against 
him, her head on his shoulder. 
Pat. [Sighing.] After seventeen weeks a tourin' imita- 
tion towns, this is certainly peach preserves. 

Dan. [Tenderly.] To me you're the only girl in the 
whole damned universe. 

Pat. [Looking at him proudly.] When I think a the men 
I see other women stacked up against, you win, easy. 

Dan. I never saw anythin' that was in your class, Patsy. 
You look like a four-time winner yourself. 
Pat. Honest? 

[She goes to the mirror. 
Dan. You're prettier than ever. 

Pat. I do think this way a wearin' my hair is becomin'. 
Dan. Becomin'! It's beautiful. You're beautiful. Every- 
thing about you's beautiful. 

Pat. Say, ain't you afraid a gettin' pinched for peddlin' 
hot air without a license? 

Dan. You don't know how I missed you. 
Pat. Don't I? You missed me this mornin', good an' 
plenty. 

Dan. That was too bad. How long are you going to 
stay? 

Pat. I must hump back to the real puddle tomorrow. - 
Dan. Tomorrow! Why? 



S6 THE CHORUS LADY [act i 

Pat. To connect. The ''Moonlight Maids" goes into cold 
storage. 

Dan. So I gathered. Seems to be a bad season for shows. 

Pat. [Sagely.] It's always a bad season for bad shows 
with bum backin'. This everlastin' huntin' a job gets on 
my nerves. I'm tired missin' you, Dan, only seein' you once 
in a dog's age. 

Dan. [Going to her.] Pat, I can't have you go. Marry 
me now. We'll get along, some way. 

Pat. An' put a crimp in your prospects? I ain't such a 
weak-minded slob as that. I was foolish to let that rave 
outa me. I'm just tired. 

Dan. [Taking her in his arms.] It breaks me all up, Pat. 
I know we would make it a go. 

Pat. Not by beginnin' wrong on the money proposition. 
[She goes to the door to the hall, closes it.] Just how do we 
stand? Mom's been hintin', but let's get down to cases. 

[She sits. 

Dan. [Sitting.] It began at Sheepshead. I thought I 
had a string of good ones 

Pat. An' they turned out skates. 

Dan. I didn't pull off a purse that was more than chicken 
feed. I had to take in a partner, an' it doesn't look like I'll 
earn more than my keep for the next six months. 

Pat. Where did you dig up this Crawford? How's he 
goin' to boost your game? 

Dan. He's lent me money an' I've given him a half in- 
terest in the stables. It was a case of take someone in, or 
get out myself. But we've some promisin' youngsters that 
ought to bring a good price. Then I'll pay him up, or sell 
out to him. But I'm strong to quit this game. Me for a 
stock farm. 

Pat. a stock farm? Where'd Pop and the folks get off? 

Dan. They'd come right along with us. 

Pat. [Thought jully.] Then we'd settle down like a cou- 
ple of Reubens, us an' the cows. 

Dan. [Laughing.] Not cows, horses. 



ACT i] THE CHORIUS LADY 37 

Pat. [Regret ftdly.] No more playin' dates at Sheepshead 
or New Orleans? 

[Dan goes to her, lemts over the back of her chair and 
puts his arms about her. 

Dan. No travel at all. [Tenderly.] Just stayin' home. 

Pat. [Wistfully.] ''Just stayin' home." Oh, Dan, do 
you s'pose it would last? 

Dan. Why, sure. 

Pat. I dunno. 

Dan. [Surprised.] What? 

Pat. I've met more than one doll as has thrown a good 
man down hard just to get back to the bright lights. They 
hand out a lot a junk about love for their art, when it's 
nothin' but a hunch for the excitement. Dan, I ain't no 
better than anyone else. I'm kinda afraid. 

Dan. But I'm not afraid. I know you love me. 

Pat. That's no idle dream. 

Dan. And that's what counts. Don't you go gettin^ all 
stewed up. 

Pat. [Rises.] I am a little up-stage today. I'm upset in 
my mind. 

Dan. Anythin' gone wrong? 

Pat. Nora's thrown a scare into me. 

Dan. Nora? 

Pat. Yes, she's got a stage career all doped out an^ Mom 
and Pop's been lettin' her dream. And it's all dead wrong. 

Dan. What's wrong about it? 

Pat. Every old thing. Say, don't tell me you've encour- 
aged her, too? 

Dan. O'Brien asked my advice and I didn't see anythin* 
to stop her. 

Pat. Well, you are a lot of yaps. Can't you see she 
ain't to be trusted outside the front yard? Not that she 
ain't good and sweet, but she ain't got any head. I don't 
know where she gets it, but she's shy on knowin' the dif- 
ference between right an' wrong. 

Dan. But if she went with you, Pat? 



88 THE CHORUS LADY [act i 

Pat. But I can't stay with her, Dan; I'm comin' to you. 

Dan. Nora's all right. 

Pat. I've seen too many just her kind, sweet and pretty, 
begin well an' end bad. 

Dan. If it's as bad as that I'm not going to have you in 
it. 

Pat. [Indignantly.] What do you mean, Dan Mallory? 
I didn't say every girl was bad or wanted to be. Do you 
think I, oh, Dan, that hurts. That hurts. 

[She moves away. 

Dan. [Following her,} I'm sorry, Pat. You know I trust 
you, but I get to worryin' for fear some rich fellow'll want 
to marry you an' 

Pat. [Gaily,] Well, they don't. Though I'm a chump to 
put you next to the fact. You're the only man as wants me 
an' you can't lose me, Mr. Mallory. 

[She goes to him. He kisses her. 

Dan. I guess we'll tandem pretty well. Crawford will 
wonder what's become of me. 

Pat. Is he down here? 

Dan. Yes, lookin' the string over. 

Pat. Don't take all day to do it. 

[Dan leans over her to get a kiss. 

Dan. [Coaxingly.] Just to keep me goin'? 

Pat. [Dodging Mm,] Nix, come back for it. [He laughs 
and goes, Pat watches him from the window.] He's the 
goods, all right, all right. 

[Nora enters. 

Nora. I'm awfully sorry, Pat. 

Pat. [Going to her,] Here too. I didn't mean to sit all 
over you. Forgive me, won't you? 

Nora. And you'll take me tomorrow? 

Pat. We'll see. We'll have a talk about it all an' maybe 
then you won't want to go. Where's Mom? 

Nora. In the spare room. [Pat goes. Nora begins to 
busy herself about the kitchen. There is a knock at the 



ACT i] THE CHORUS LADY 39 

door. Nora, opens it and Crawford enters.'] Oh! Mr, 
Crawford, you've come to meet Pat. I'll call her. 

Crawford. Wait a moment. I want to give you that 
loan. 

Nora. Oh, no, thank you, Mr. Crawford. I've been 
thinking it over and it doesn't seem right. 

Crawford. Has Pat helped you? 

Nora. No. 

Crawford. Then you still owe the Duke? 

Nora. Yes. 

Crawford. Suppose you lay another wager, or let me lay 
it for you? 

Nora. But I mightn't win and I'd be worse off than ever. 

Crawford. No, I'll give you a sure thing. I'll put up 
five dollars and I think I can get four to one. 

Nora. [Delighted.'] I'd have twenty dollars. \^Anx-- 
iously.] You're sure I couldn't lose? 

Crawford. Positive. Then it's a go? I'll run down to- 
wards the end of the week and give you the money. 

Nora. I mightn't be here. Maybe Pat's going to take me 
to New York tomorrow. 

Crawford. If she does, come to my office. If not, I'll be 
here. 

Nora. It's too bad for you to take all that trouble. 

Crawford. [Going to her.] I'd take more trouble than 
that to see you. 

Nora. [Shyly.] You're awful sweet about it. 

Crawford. So are you, awfully sweet. 

[He leans over and kisses her as Pat enters unob- 
served. 

Pat. [Sharply.] Nora! 

Nora. [Embarrassed.] Oh, Pat, this is Mr. Crawford. 

Pat. [Frostily.] Delighted to meet you. This your first 
visit? 

Crawford. Yes. [Meaningly.] But not -ny last, 

Pat. [Imolently.] That so? [She turns to Nora.] 



40 THE CHOKUS LADY [act i 

Nora, go pack your trunk. [Nora runs off delightedly. 
Pat turns to Crawford.] Won't you sit down? 

[They sit facing each other across the table in mutual 
antagonism as the curtain jails. 



THE SECOND ACT 

A dressing-room in the Longacre Theatre. It is arranged 
for the accommodation of eight chorus girls. On the 
wall at the left of the room is a sheet of mirror and 
underneath it a shelf covered with the litter of theatrical 
make-up. At the shelf are four chairs. There is a 
similar arrangement on the right of the room and in 
the centre of it is a long marble stand with wash-basins 
four to a side. Over the mirrors are electric-light fix- 
tures unshaded and on the rear wall are rows of hooks 
for costumes and street clothes. At the back of the 
room is a door opening into a hall, across which is a 
door to another dressing-room. 

It is a quarter before eight of an April evening. Mai De- 
LANEY and MiLLY SuLTZER, "ponics" Evelyn LaRue, 
Rita Nichols and Inez Blair, show-girls, are in vari- 
ous stages of dress and undress, preparing for the even- 
ing performance; Mai is seated on the floor, putting on 
her slippers, Rita adding a final touch of rouge, 
Inez washing her hands, Evelyn applying a liquid- 
white to her arms and shoulders, and Lou Archer, 
another show-girl, completely dressed, is seated with her 
feet cocked up on the wash-stand, engrossed in a paper- 
covered novel and smoking a cigarette. In a corner 
of the room, reading a newspaper which conceals her 
face from the spectators, is another girl, evidently, from 
what can be seen of her costume, a dancer. There is a 
high-pitched babel of conversation, which has followed 
upon Inezes recital of an adventure of the previous 
evening. 

41 



42 THE CHORUS LADY [act ii 

MiLLY. What'd you say to him, Inez? 
Inez. "What d'you think I am?" says I. "You beat it 
before I call my brother an' a policeman." 
Evelyn. The nerve a' these rah-rah-rah boys! 
Rita. Ain't it the limit? 
Lou. Fresh Ike. 

Mai. Ain't he got a crust, tryin' to kiss a girl an' him 
ain't got a cent in the world! 

MiLLY. [Singing.] "Would you care if I should leave 

you? Would " 

Rita. Not if you took your voice with you. 

MiLLY, Mai, Evelyn and Inez. [Singing.] "Would you 

care if I should leave you " 

Lou. Oh, shut up! You dressin'-room prima donnas 
give me a pain. 

[Enter Mrs. Georgie Adams Coote, a one-time sou- 
brette, now the wurdrobe ^'lady^' of the Longacre 
Theatre. She is a jat, jovial gossip in an illy fitting 
skirt and crumpled white shirtwaist. From her belt 
hangs a pair of scissors, a tape-measure and a pin- 
cushion. She is carrying over one arm* a costume 
which she has been repairing; in one hand is a pair 
of slippers, in the other a hat, and on her head is a 
large picture-hat gaily coloured and elaborately 
trimmed, looking sadly out of place on her totcsled 
hair which was originally brown, then blonde, after- 
wards red, and is now a mixture of all three shades 
and plentifully streaked with grey. 
Evelyn. Say, Georgie'd you mend that waist? 
Georgie. [Crisply.] I certainly did, Miss LaRue. 
Evelyn. Well, I hope it stays up. You musta used a 
red-hot needle and a burnt thread last time fer it fell right 
offa my shoulders. 

Geosgie. Most a' your clothes seem to get that habit, 
Miss LaRue. You oughta leave somethin' to the 'magina- 
tion. 

[She has thrown the costume over the back of a 



ACT II] THE CHOR,US LADY 43 

ch(df at the dressing-table on the left of the room, 
placed the slippers on another chair, and one hat on 
the shelf y then catching sight of her reflection in the 
mirror has adjusted the one she is wearing at a very 
rakish angle and with the aid of a hand-mirror is 
admiring the back view. 
Georgie. Rita, seen Miss Simpson tonight? 

Rita. Ain't she [Turns and sees her hat on Georgie's 

head.] Well, you've got your nerve with you, wearin' my 
hat! 

[She snatches the hat off Georgie's head. The girls 
guy her and Georgie stares after her in speechless 
indignation as Rita flounces out of the room and 
goes into the dressing-room across the hall. There 
is a general movement. Mai rises, sits at the dress- 
ing-table, paints her lips; Evelyn adjusts her hat, 
MiLLY powders her neck, Inez throws off her kimono 
and gets her costume. Georgie hooks her into it, 
Georgie. Anyone seen Miss Simpson tonight? 
MiLLY. Ain't she in her dressin'-room? 
Inez. Simpson don't go till the second act. 
Mai. She'll be late tonight. She's being bridesmaid to 
Maizie Jones. 

Georgie. For goodness' sake, Mai, that man ain't mar- 
ried Maizie? 

Mai. Looks that way. 

Georgie. Ain't them saucer-eyed blondes wonders? 
Lou. It's momma that's the wonder. 
Evelyn. That's right, Lou, I tell you what a mother 
can't do for you in this business. 
Georgie. Anythin* from makin' you a star to a Duchess. 
Milly. Has he money? 
Lou. He's from Pittsburgh. 

Georgie. No use cryin* over spilt milk, but I wisht we'd 
a played Pittsburgh when I was with Evangeline. I usta 
make a real cute boy. 



44. THE CHORUS LADY [act ii 

Evelyn. You'd make about a dozen now. 

[The girls laugh. 
Georgie. Serves me right for wastin' breath on a lot a 
chorus girls. 

Evelyn. [Coming to Georgie.] Looka here, don't go 
callin' me a chorus girl. 
Georgie. What are you? 

Evelyn. I'm a specialty lady. IVe been in the front 
row fer five years. 

Georgie. An' you'll stay there another ten. 
Evelyn. You animated balloon! 
Georgie. You red-headed spear carrier I 
[They glare at each other. Inez, between them, inter- 
feres. Lou turns, sees them, rises. 
Lou. Hands off, Blair; let 'em scrap it out. 
Georgie. [To Evelyn.] I'd hand you a ^lam in the map 
if I wasn't a lady. 

MiLLY. [Rising and going to them.] Please don't. Every- 
body's always fightin'. 

Inez. The scraps in here is certainly the limit. 
MiLLY. I'm goin' to ask to have my dressin'-room 
changed. Pat and Simpson fights every performance, an' 
now you two's beginnin'. [Crying.] My nerves is just all 
gone to the devil. 
Georgie. Too bad about you. 

Call Boy. [Off.] Half hour! Half hour! Half hour! 
[Georgie stares pugnaciously at Evelyn, who looks at 
her contemptuously and moves away with Lou. 
MiLLY returns to her place at the dressing-table. 
Inez puts her foot on the chair from which Lou 
hcLs risen and ties her shoe-string. Mai makes up 
leispjrely, and Rita, having complained about Geor- 
gie to the girls in the other room, strolls in, her hat 
on, and lolls in front of her mirror, admiring herself. 
The figure reading the newspaper has paid no atten^ 
tion to anyone. 
Georgie. Pat's late, too. Is she at the weddin'? 



ACT ii] THE CHORUS LADY 45 

Inez. She can't stand for Maizie's push. 
MiLLY. I wonder what Simpson wore at the weddin'? I 
hope she comes straight here. 

Inez. She won't lose any chance to make a gallery play 
to us. 

[Rita, bored, rises and again pays a visit to the other 
dressing-room. Evelyn washes her hands. Lou 
joins Mai. Georgie sits in the chair at the lower 
end of the dressing-table beside Mai and begins to 
mend the costume she has brought in. 
Evelyn. Talk about havin' coin in bundles, Simpson's 
goin' to buy a Duke. 

Mai. She's awful aristocratic in her ideas. 
Georgie. Her mother used to wash for the best families. 
MiLLY. She made it in Wall Street. 
Georgie. Humph! 

Lou. Milly, when it comes to a stall, you're a tapioca. 
MiLLY. [Proudly. 1 She's goin' to give me a tip in stocks 
soon as I make a lot a money on the ponies. Girls, don't 
you wisht we knew who'd win tomorrow? 

Evelyn. I wouldn't mind knowin' the name an' address 
of a horse that's goin' to win. 

Inez. Say, Nora, you don't know of a hundred-to-one 
shot that's due to be uncorked tomorrow? 

'{The person behind the newspaper drops it in her lap, 
revealing Nora in the costume of a dancer. 
Nora. No, I wish I did. 

{She rises and walks down to the chair beside the wash' 
stand. 
Inez. [Sympathetically.'] Say, you look all to the bad 
tonight. Kinda worried? Can't you figure out the dope? 
Nora. [Sitting wearily.'] Just tired, that's all. 
Inez. Brace up! What's the one best bet for tomorrow? 
Nora. [Reading.] "First race, Sis Lee, straight; Fourth 
race. Little Wally to show, the Veiled Lady straight." 
Mai. [Petidantly.] I don't like none a them names. 
Milly. Veiled Lady's kinda cunnin'. 



46 THE CHOR\US LADY [act ii 

Inez. What's the entry? 

MiLLY. Inez, what'd ye mean by entry? 

Inez. [Impatiently.] I've told you a million times. Go 
on, Nora. 

Nora. "Sis Lee, Sailor Boy, Milady Love, King Leopold, 
Bensonhurst, Immortelle " 

Lou. That's a dead one. What's the dope on the race? 

Nora. [Reading.] "The opening two-year-old scurry at 
half a mile shows a well-set field of fair class, with Sis Lee 
the most probable winner, though scarcely the best horse in 
the race. In " 

MiLLY. How can it win if it ain't the best horse? 

Lou. Somebody gag her. 

Nora. [Reading.] "In March she was beaten a nose at 
New Orleans by Merrie Lassie." 

MiLLY. What'd I tell you? You can all do as you like, 
but none a my money on Miss Sis Lee. D'you hear, Nora? 

Nora. All right. [Reading.] "Sailor Boy is as good as 
the day he beat Follow On. Miladi " 

Georgie. I used to make a real cute Sailor Boy in pale 
blue tights, an' a dark blue blouse all trimmed with anchors. 
I remember 

Inez. Forget Evangeline fer a moment, as a favour. 

Nora. [Reading.] "Miladi Love beat Eling Leopold last 
summer and raced as well as Bensonhurst. Hard thing to 
get anything of consequence in this division so early in the 
year." 

Inez. Well, I should say so. 

Lou. To hear him tell it, there ain't a dog in the race. 

Nora. The more you read the less you know about it. 

MiLLY. I'll take Bensonhurst. I was there once an' had 
a grand time. I wonder if it's a pretty horse. 

Nora. Bensonhurst, to win? 

MiLLY. Why, of course, to win. You ask the silliest 
questions. 

Nora. Inez, give me a piece of paper. 

[Inez crosses to her place, looks for a bit of paper ^ 



ACT ii] THE CHORUS LADY 47 

Rita retttrns and exposttdates with Evelyn, who has, 
in her absence, gone to her place and taken some 
of her lip salve. Mai rises and goes to Nora. 
Mai. I'm going to pick 'em the old way. Where's the 
programme? 

Lou. Programme? You're a weird bunch of sports. 
Mai. Smarty! I picked mine this way yesterday an' I was 
the only girl that won, wasn't I, Nora? 

[She closes her eyes and places her finger on the racing 
chart in the newspaper. 
Nora. [Reading.'] "Immortelle." 

MiLLY. Immortelle! Oh, Mai, don't take that one. Don't 
take a creepy horse. 

Lou. He wouldn't run one, two, six, in a goat race. 
Mai. I'll try again. [She does so, then looks at the place.'] 
King Leopold. 

Evelyn. [Coming to them excitedly.] Ain't that the 
King that liked chorus girls? 
Lou. Me for the King. 
Rita. Me, too! 

[Mai, smiling complacently, returns to her dressings 
table. Rita joins Lou, then they go to the other 
dressing-room. Inez brings a pencil and sheet of 
paper to Nora, who makes a memorandum of the 
wagers. Georgie rises, shakes out the costume and 
hangs it on a hook at the rear of the room. 
Georgie. Ain't anyone goin' to make a pool? I'm a 
little sl;ort. I'll go in with someone. 

Inez. If you saved the wad you blow on beer every night 

after the show 

Georgie. [Indignantly.] Why, it isn't that I like it. 
It's the doctor's orders. I have to take a quart or so for 
insomnia. [Going to Nora.] Nora, could you trust me for 
seventy-five cents? I'd like to split it three ways on Sailor 
Boy. I s'pose it's foolish to be superstitious, but it's a sure 
hunch. I usta make a real cute sailor boy. 



48 THE CHORUS LADY [act ii 

Evelyn. We know, all trimmed with anchors. You may 
find some on Sailor Boy at that. 

[The girls laugh. 
Georgie. That's right. Sneer at a poor woman with a 
husband that ain't workin'. Pikers! 

[She flounces out angrily; the girls hoot after her. 
Inez. Nora, put me down for the usual. Sis Lee across 
the board. 

MiLLY. What's across the board? Say, Inez, tell what's 
across the board. 

Inez. Haven't time. The race is called for three tomor- 
row. 

MiLLY. I think you're horrid. It isn't fair. I've just as 
much right to play across the board as anyone. 

Nora. All right, Bensonhurst across the board. I'll get 
the money after the show. 

Lou. [Running on, followed by Rita.] Nix with the 
racing news. Somebody's comin'. 
Nora. Maybe it's Pat. 

[She throws the newspaper under the wash-stand and 
scurries to her place beside Milly and begins to 
rouge feverishly. Inez and Rita follow her and sit. 
Lou and Evelyn rush to sit at their places beside 
Mai. All of them begin to make up and to gabble 
of everything except racing. 
Voice. [Outside, in respectful tones.'] Good evening. Miss 
Simpson. 

Lou. [Disgusted.'] It's only Simpson. 
Miss Simpson. [Outside, in a drawling voice.] I fear I'm 
a trifle late. 

Voice. [Outside.] Don't worry; you needn't go on till 
the second act. 

[The girls turn and look at one another. 
Miss Simpson. [Outside.] So good of you. 
Evelyn. Always knew she had money in this show. 
Inez. Cinch. 

[Sylvia Simpson, a tall and strikingly handsome wom^ 



ACT ii] THE CHORIUS LADY 4& 

an of the "show-girl'* type, bejewelled and gorgeously 
attired, appears in the doorway, where she poses 
briefly, to give the girls who turn to look at her an 
opportunity to get the full effect of her magnificence. 

Girls. Hello, Simpson. 

Simpson. Hello, girls. i 

[She saunters in. 

Mai. Did you have a good time? 

Simpson. [Affectedly.'] Ciel! Weddings are such a bore. 

Nora. Oh, I think they're lovely. 

Simpson. They're getting frightfully common. Every 
chorus girl you know is getting married. 

Nora. {Going to her.] Oh, what a love of a coat! 

Simpson. [Sweeping across the room.] Do you like it? 

Inez. What'd Maizie wear? 

Simpson. The tightest "Princess" I ever saw. 

Evelyn. What else did she have on? 

Simpson. Not much of anything. As for jewellery ■' 

Mai. Much? 

Simpson. Much? She looked like a Tiffany showcase. 

MiLLY. Just like our Prima Donna in the last act. 

Simpson. Yes, quite vulgar. 

Inez. Was her nibs there? 

Simpson. The Prima Donna? Oh, dear, no. She's not 
in our set. 

[She removes her coat. The girls gasp at the costly 
beauty of the gown that is revealed as she parades 
languidly across the room. Nora, who has taken 
the coat, runs over with it to Milly. The other girls 
cluster about, admiring it; finally Evelyn, at the 
suggestion of Inez, puts it on. 

Evelyn. Lots a people there? 

Simpson. Oh, crowds! Not a bit classy or smart. I'm 
sure to half of them Rector's is only a name. 

[She sits. 

Lou. Many you knew? 

Simpson. [Getting a cigarette from het case."] No, but 



50 THE CHORUS LADY [act ii 

lots I expect to. Loads of men introduced themselves to me.> 
Maizie did a real mean thing. She tried to cut me out of 
my entrance. 

Evelyn, Mai and Milly. [Sympathetically.] The idea! 

Lou. That's an old trick a hers, crowdin' you on. 

Simpson. I just told her if she thought I blowed in five 
hundred dollars for this dress, just to be a bridesmaid, she 
was good and well mistaken. I was there to be looked at, 
and you bet I was. 

Nora. Did that cost five hundred dollars? 

Simpson. It is rather a roast. But it's a good investment. 
You've got to look well if you want to get any kind of a 
salary in this business. [Inez giggles. Simpson twrn upon 
her.] Did you see anything humorous in that last remark? 

Inez. No! I was thinkin' a somethin' funny. 

Simpson. If it's a good joke, put us all next. 

Nora. [Trying to stop the impending row.] Miss Simp- 
son, what horse are you going to play tomorrow? 

Simpson. [To Nora.] I don't know. [Springs to her 
feet, blazing mad.] If anybody has anything to say about 
me, just speak right out, that's all. [She sees Evelyn in 
her coat.] Say, when you girls get through wearing out that 
coat I'd like what's left of it. 

Inez. Take your old coat. 

[She jerks the coat off Evelyn and throws it at Simp- 
son. Then she, Lou, Evelyn and Rita, talking 
viciously about Simpson, leave the room and disap- 
pear in the direction of the stage. Milly gets her 
costume and Mai helps her to adjust it. Simpson 
places her coat on a chair, then sits and lights another 
cigarette. 

Simpson. Got anything good, Nora? 

Nora. Here's the entry. 

Simpson. Don't bother me with the entry. Hasn't that 
friend of yours tipped you off to anything? 
. Nora. No. 
\ Simpson. Say, Nora, I met your friend today. 



ACT n] THE CHORiUS LADY 51 

Nora. What friend? 

Simpson. What friend? Mr. Crawford. 

Nora.. You met Mr. Crawford? 

Simpson. Thought I'd surprise you. He's a friend of 
Maizie's husband. Soon as he knew I was in this company 
he asked right away if I knew you, and I said we were great 
friends. He's asked us out to supper some night. 

Nora. I couldn't go. 

[She moves quickly to the dressing-table and sits, 

Simpson. Why not? You been out to lunch with him. 
He don't like Pat a little bit, does he? 

Nora. Pat met him only once. 

Simpson. [Going to Nora.] I guess once was enough for 
him. [Whispering meaningly.'] Crawford's a good thing if 
you work him right. 

Nora. [Indignantly.'] Why, Miss Simpson! I wouldn't 
think of such a thing. 

[She rises and moves away from her^ 

Simpson. You've been working him for tips, haven't you? 

Nora. It isn't the same thing. 

Simpson. I don't see much difference between tips an*" 
diamonds. He's in love with you. Maybe he'd be just fool 
enough to marry you. His family have money. I think 
they'd settle if you bluffed good and hard. 

Nora. Please don't talk like that. 

[She goes out in the direction of the stage^ 

Simpson. [Calling after her.] Oh! Don't be silly. 

Voice. [Outside.] You're late, O'Brien. 

Pat. [Outside.] Miss Obreenne, to you, Mr. Stage Man- 
ager. 

Voice. [Outside.] You get a move on. 

Pat. [Outside.] Don't you dare! I'm not your slave. 
[Pat appears at the door, meeting Evelyn and Inez.. 

Voice. [Outside, nearer.] That'll be about all from you. 

Pat. You can take my two weeks now. If you can get 
anybody to lead this chorus better'n me, get 'em an' get 
'em quick. 



52 THE CHORUS LADY [act ii 

Voice. [Outside.] Do you mean that? 
Pat. Sure I means it. I don't take nothin' from no one. 
Simpson. That's a good bluff. 

Pat. You ought to be wise to bluffs, Simpson; you throw 
a few. Good evenin', ladies. 

[Followed by Evelyn and Inez, Pat walks airily into 
the room. She is wearing a new suit of brown cloth, 
a new hat over which is draped an elaborate veil, a 
small scarf of fur and a muff. The girls gaze at her 
in admiration, Pat enjoying keenly the sensation she 
is making. 
MiLLY. Don't you look grand? 
Evelyn. Mighta just stepped out of a suit-case. 

[Lou strolls in. 
Pat. Say, girls, are you pipin' the veil? Ain't it a Susie 
Smitherino? I don't think it's at all loud, do you? 
Mai. [Going up to get her costume,] Oh, nol 
MiLLY. It's sweet. 
Evelyn. You look elegant. 
Lou. It's a corker! 
Pat. Come at me light, girls. 

Inez. I never seen you look sweller. Have you, Simpson? 
Simpson. [Sarcastically.] O'Brien's a tremendously smart 
dresser. 

Pat. Don't get petulant, sweetheart. You ain't the only 
Daily Hint from Paris. 

MiLLY. [Going to Pat.] Oh, Pat! Them's new furs. 
Simpson. Isn't it rather late for furs? 
Pat. [Ignoring her.] Milly! I struck a clearin' sale of 
furs today at Macy's, cravat an' cushion muff, four ninety- 
six. Best Adirondack sable! [Simpson laughs derisively. 
Pat advances on her belligerently.] Say, are you passin^ 
me the giggle? 

[Simpson subsides, to the delight of the girls who 

resented her sneer at Pat's furs which Milly, after 

examining appreciatively, has reverently put away, 

Pat. Say, Lou, talkin' a sales, ain't that a peach coat? 



ACT II] THE CHORUS LADY 53 

Nine sixty-eight, silk-lined! Feel that linin'. Ain't it 
immense? [She drops the coat in Simpson's lapj\ Try 
it on, Simpson; it might look good on you. 

Simpson. [Brushing the coat off her lap.] I can't wear 
ready-made clothing. 

Pat. You can't wear ready-made clothin'? Girls, ziin't 
that a shame! [The girls laugh. Lou rescues the coat. 
Pat admires herself in the mirror.] Well, a perfect figure 
certainly saves you money. 

[Lou hangs the coat on a hook. Pat slips off her skirt, 
showing a petticoat of violent hues. 
Evelyn. Why, you got a new petticoat, too. 
Pat. Three forty-three. One of them invisible plaids. 
Maybe it wouldn't put Fifth Avenue on the blink! [As 
Pat turns to hang her skirt on a hook, Rita enters.] Hello, 
Rita. Welcome to our city! 
Rita. Hello, Pat. 
Mai. That's an awful sweet hat. 

Pat. It is a swell lid. I blew myself there. Two ninety- 
eight. Imported model! They wanted to put a bunch a 
peacock feathers on the side, but I'm that superstitious. 
MiLLY. So am I. 

Pat. An', what's the use a trimmin' when I have the 
veil? 

[She takes off her hat and her shirtwaist, hangs them 
up carefully, then puts on a kimono, steps out 
of her petticoat, shakes it out admiringly and places 
it carefully on another hook, talking all the time. 
The girls are very much interested, Simpson taking 
great pains to show that she is horribly bored. 
Pat. Girls, I seen some waists today at Siegel-Cooper's; 
beauts, all-over lace, three dollars. Real lace! I had to 
pass them up. After I bought these yellow kicks my pocket- 
book looked like a disaster. 

[She sits at her place, which is at the lower end of the 
dressing-table on the left side of the room. The 
girls, sensing that Pat and Simpson, who invariably 



54 THE CHORUS LADY [act ii 

indulge in a verbal battle when they meet, are about 
to stage another, are seated at their places in eager 
expectancy.'] 
Inez. You certainly was good to yourself. 
Pat. I've been savin' on car-fare an' lunches. I just said 
it was up to me to refurnish from cellar to dome. 

[Blanche, Simpson's ''coloured^' maid, enters from 

the dressing-room across the' hall, bringing several 

letters to her mistress. 

Simpson. Take my coat, Blanche. [Blanche, taking it, 

goes. Simpson looks at the letters.'] People write for 

autographs. Mon Dieu, what a bore! 

[Pat turns and winks at the girls. She is removing 

her hair-pins and loosens a bunch of false curls, 

which she displays. 

Pat. [Rising.] Girls, how do you like my Fritzi Scheff's? 

Take it from me, Silas, them puffs is goin' to be the dead 

swell article, an' such a bargain ! When I teil you the price 

you'll pass away. I got the puffs the 

Inez. [Going to her.] Real hair? 

Pat. [Indignantly.] Si:^e, it's real hair. Feel it. T got 
the puffs, the bunch a curls — ^just flash your glims on them 
curls — and the bayrette, for one seventy-five. 
MiLLY. [Going to her.] Where to? Macy^s? 
Pat. No. Got 'em from a lady friend at the Casino. 
She's lettin' her hair go back to brown this season. 

[She returns to the dressing-table. 
Inez. Oh, say, Pat, I brought up a letter fer you. 
Pat. Guys writin' fer autographs. Mon doo, what a bore! 
Simpson. [Angrily.] Are you mimicking me. Miss 
O'Brien? 

Pat. Mimickin* you. Miss Simpson? You ain't got the 
French language copyrighted, have you? Maybe it's some 
newspaper guy wants my picture. [Simpson laughs scorn- 
fully, Pat resents it.] I been in the Sunday Telegraph 
twict this season. 

MiLLY. Oh, didn't you love it? 



ACT ii] THE CHORUS LADY 55 

Pat. No. I hate publicity, but anythin' to help the 
manager along. 

MiLLY. [Going to her.] Do you know any real reporters? 

Pat. I got a couple on me staff. 

MiLLY. Say, who's your letter from? From your gentle- 
man friend? The one you told me about, you know. Dan? 

Pat. [Reading.] Sure, he writes me every day, some- 
times twict. He's got a surprise for me, something swell. 
He's goin' to be out in front tonight. Gee! I must tell 
Nora. 

Call Boy. [Outside.] Fifteen minutes. 

[Inez and Milly run to their places. All the girls 
begin to add last touches to their make-up. 

Pat. Gee, I must get to work. Evelyn, gimme my dress, 
will you? Girls, who do you think I seen today at Macy's? 

Mai. Who? 

Pat. Mrs. Carter. 

Milly. Leslie Carter? 

Pat. Leslie Carter. She was buyin' spangles. 

Inez. Did you see her close to? 

Pat. I could a touched her. I rubbered to beat the band. 
Don't you just love Carter? 

Inez. You bet. 

Pat. Honest, I think that wonlan^s got the most emo- 
tional hair in this business. 

Evelyn. [Going up for Pat's costume.] I've seen her in 
everythin' she plays. 

Pat. So have I. You know. Carter's a whole lot on my 
style. 

Simpson. I hadn't noticed it. 

Pat. Well, you know you're near-sighted. Milly! You 
know I'm really cut out for one of them emotional all-over- 
the-place actresses. 

Milly. [Sighing.] 1 know, an' wear spangled dresses an' 
smoke cigarettes. 

Mai. Wouldn't it be sweet? 

[Pat has ''slapped'' on her make-up. Evelyn has 



56 THE CHORUS LADY [act ii 

brought down her costume. Pat rises, goes to hefy 
Evelyn helps her. 

Evelyn. I wouldn't care what it was so long as I could 
wear pale blue tights. I'm just wasted in skirts. 

Pat. Nix for mine, this tights gag. [Simpson laughs 
sarcastically.'] Not that I can't wear 'em. Simpson, I 
hate to talk about my figger, but I could make the Venus de 
Milo look like May Irwin. I'm only in musical comedy 
to learn to be graceful. I bet I could get a backer to star 
me if I could get the play, but gee, it's hard to get a good 
tragic play. Of course I could get one from Charlie Froh- 
man, but I don't want to take it away from Maude Adams 
or Ethel Barrymore. I can always dance for my livin'. 

Simpson. You're a hit with yourself, aren't you? 

Pat. Girls, I'm no knocker, an' you never hear me leadin* 
any anvil chorus, but [looking meaningly at Simpson] if 
certain parties were where they belonged, they'd be makin' 
beds. Gee, I must get a move on. Evelyn, would you mind 
braidin' my hair? 

Evelyn. No. 

[Pat sits at the mirror. She removes a transformattott, 
revealing a tiny wisp of hair. Evelyn begins to 
braid it. 

Pat. You wouldn't believe I had grand hair once. 

Evelyn. Really? 

Pat. I used to could sit on it. I just ruined it Marcellin' 
it. 

Evelyn. [Holding up a tiny braid.] What'll I do with 
this? 

Pat. Twist the ends under. 

Evelyn. They won't stay twisted. 

Pat. They won't? [She takes a hand-mirror and looks 
at the back view.] Them ends used to stay twisted some- 
thin' grand. Here's a piece a string; tie it up. Where's 
Nora? 

Evelyn. She was here a minute ago. 

Pat. I wisht I was pretty as Nora. Where's my wig 



ACT ii] THE CHORUS LADY 57 

band? There it is. [She pins it around her head and looks 
at the effect.] Say, girls, you know what's the matter with 
my face? It's too classical. 

Simpson. You hate yourself, don't you? 

Pat. [Gazing at her reflection.'] Say, don't I look like 
Ellen Terry? Gee, I just noticed it. [Striking a pose.] 
Look, look now. 

Evelyn. Yes, you do. 

Voice. [Outside.] Any laundry? 

Girls. No. 

Pat. [Yelling.] Hold on, laundry man. I'm lookin' for 
that guy. [She runs up to the door and opens it.] Well, 
you got a fine noive comin' here fer laundry. You kept 
mine a whole week last time. Honest, girls, I didn't have 
a stitch to my back. 

Voice. How much did you have? 

Pat. Four pieces. 

Voice. What were they? 

Pat. I had a skirt, a shirt-waist, an' a — say, looka here. 
Fresh, it's none a your business what I had. Ain't it 
awful? I'll never get made up. 

[She slams the door. 

Voice. [Outside.] Overture! Overture! 

[MiLLY, Inez, Rita, Lou, Evelyn and Mai dash out, 
Pat starts to her dressing-table. 

Nora. [Outside.] Oh, stop. Oh, please stop! 

[She enters, 

Pat. What is it, honey lamb? 

Nora. That old tenor tried to kiss me. 

Pat. [Going to the door, calls off.] Say you, tenor! 
Yes, you! You leave my sister alone, d'ye hear? [She 
slams the door.] Beast! 

Simpson. You're speaking about a friend of mine. 

Pat. Well, if you want to associate with him, that's your 
affair. But he can't get busy around my sister. 

Simpson. How dare you? 



58 THE CHORUS LADY [act ii 

Pat. [Hurrying to the mirror.'] Oh, fade away, Simp- 
son; fade quick. 

Simpson. Your sister's so much better than I am. That's 
the best laugh I've had this season. 

[Pat is adjusting her wig. Suddenly her movements 
are arrested as she sees in the mirror the effect of 
Simpson's words on Nora. Motionless she stands 
watching their reflections. 
Nora. [Running to Simpson.] Oh, Miss Simpson! 
Simpson. Don't Miss Simpson me! I'm sick of you put- 
ting on airs about being so good and virtuous. You're a 
little sneak. Do you think I'm going to put up with your 
sister's impudence and me knowing what I do about you? 
Pat. [Turning upon Simpson.] What do you mean? 
Simpson. What do I mean? Ask her about her friend, 
Mr. Crawford. 
Pat. Crawford! 

Simpson. Yes. Your sweet little sister who's too good 
to associate with me is carrying on with Dick Crawford, 
going to lunch with him, making dates with him after the 
show, playing his tips. We're all playing his tips. 
Pat. It's a lie. 

Simpson. Ask any of the girls. Look at her, and then 
ask me — if it's a lie. 

Nora. [Pleadingly.] Oh, Pat! 

Simpson. You'd better look at home. Miss Pat O'Brien, 
before you go casting slurs on other people's characters. 
[She goes and as she opens the door the first bars 
of the overture are heard in the distance. She slams 
the door angrily. Pat stands speechless. Nora, 
her head bowed, is sobbing bitterly. 
Nora. Pat! Oh, Pat! 

[Pat goes to Nora, takes her roughly by the shoulders, 
Pat. Look at me. Have you gone to the bad? 
Nora. [Indignantly.] Why, Pat! 

Pat. [Taking Nora in her arms.] Thank God! Now 
what about this Crawford? 



ACT ii] THE CHORUS LADY 59 

Nora. He's been kind to me. 

Pat. Kind! Is it kind gettin' you talked about, com- 
promisin' you, the dog! 

Nora. He helped me out a debt. 

Pat. Debt? Who'd you owe money to? 

Nora. The girls. 

Pat. The girls! How? 

Nora. I placed their bets on the Montgomery Handicap. 
Mr. Crawford gave me the tips. I took their winnings 
an' 

Pat. No, no, I won't believe it. You took their money? 

Nora. Not all of it. 

Pat. Where's what's left? 

Nora. I didn't have money enough to pay them all, 
so I went to Mr. Crawford thinking I could double the 
money. He gave me a tip. I plunged and lost it all. 

Pat. It was a trap. 

Nora. The girls kept asking me for their winnings. I 
couldn't stand it any longer. I just had to go back to Mr. 
Crawford. He gave me three hundred dollars. 

Pat. [Sinking into a chair.] Three hundred dollars! 
How could it be that much? 

Nora. The girls each bet five dollars and at ten to one 
it soon mounts up. Oh, Pat, how it mounted up! 

Pat. What's Crawford to you that he'd give you so much 
money? 

Nora. Why, nothing. It was business. I signed a 
paper. Mr. Crawford said to sign Pop's name 

Pat. You forged Pop's name? 

Nora. Forged? 

Pat. Can't you see? Can't you see! He can make Pop 
pay that money. We've gotta get that note. 

Nora. Perhaps I can get it. 

Pat. How? 

Nora. Mr. Crawford's been asking me to take supper 
at his apartments after the show. I'll go tonight 

P.at. [Rising,] Go to his rooms? Ain't you got no 



eo THE CHORUS LADY [act ii 

sense? You won't go, do you hear me? Think you can 
get that note without payin', an' payin' dear for it? You 
leave it to me. 

[She goes to the dressing-table, and begins to whiten 
her arms. 
Nora. What are you going to do? 
Pat. I'll go to his office tomorrow. I'll tell him a thing 
or two. 

Nora. If you make him angry he'll tell father. 
Pat. If he makes a move like that, you'll tell Pop first. 
Nora. Oh, Pop'd never forgive me. Oh! Why did you 
bring me here? 

[She sinks sobbing into a chair. 
Pat. [Turning on her bitterly. 1 Why did I bring you 
here? Because I felt it in my bones that he'd come 
snoopin' round after I was gone an' I brings you here, right 
to him, makin' it easy and convenient for him to play his 
little game. How he must be givin' me the laugh! He 
knew I was next, an' I swore to Mom I'd look after you 
an' see no harm'd come to you. If this gets home it seems 
to me I couldn't ever look her in the face again. 

[There is a knock on the door. Nora, frightened, 
springs to her feet. There is a slight pame. 
Pat. What is it? 

Voice. [Outside.] Message from the stage door for Miss 
O'Brien. Mr. Mallory asked me to tell you that your 
mother and father wuz in front tonight and would you 
please hurry home after the show. 

Nora. [Wildly.] 1 can't face them. I can't face them! 
Pat. Brace up, brace up! Hush! Hush! 
Nora. I can't dance tonight. It's no use. I can't do it. 
Pat. But you gotta dance. The curtain's goin' up. 
Stay here; I'll get somethin' from Georgie to brace you up. 
[She rushes off towards the stage. Through the opened 
door come the strains of a gay waltz. Nora is cry- 
ing hysterically as she walks up and down the room 
talking to herself. 



ACT ii] THE CHORUS LADY 61 

Nora. I got to go to him. I can't face Pop and Mom 
without that note. 

Call Boy. ^Rushing past the door.] Act's on! Act's 
on! Act's on! 

Nora. [Running to the door.] Boy, get me a cab! 
Quickly! Quickly! 

[Nora, seizing her coat from the rack by the door, 

dashes down the hall in the direction of the stage 

door. The overture ends in a crash of sound. Inez 

and Mai dart out of the dressing-room across the hall 

and rush toivards the stage. Pat runs in carrying a 

glass. 

Pat. [At the door.] Here, Nora. [She stops at the sight 

of the empty room.] Gone! [Then it dawns on her.] To 

Crawford's. 

[She puts the glass down and rushes up to the rack; 
grabs her street clothes, throws them on a chair. 
MiLLY comes running in. 
MiLLY. Pat! They're holding the curtain. 
Pat. Let 'em hold it. 

[She is tearing off her costume in frantic haste as the 
curtain falls. 



THE THIRD ACT 

Dick Crawford's apartment in New York — an attrac- 
tively and luxuriously furnished living-room; on the 
left at the farther end of the room is a door to the hall, 
on the right a fireplace and a door to a bedroom, at 
the back a large window. There are comfortable 
chairs, a large table with newspapers, magazines, a 
lamp and a silver box containing cigars; on a side 
table are decanters and glasses and on a small table at 
the left of the room are a tobacco jar, cigarettes and 
matches. Sporting prints hang on the walls and the 
mantelpiece is crowded with silver cups and auto- 
graphed photographs of actresses. The curtains are 
drawn, the lamp is lighted and a fire is burning in the 
grate. Nora is seated by the fireplace. Rogers, Craw- 
ford's man servant, enters from the hall. Nora rises 
quickly. 

Nora. [Anxiously.'] Couldn't you find Mr. Crawford? 
Rogers. Yes, I found him at the club. I had him on 
the telephone. 
Nora. Will he be here soon? 

Rogers. He'll be here right away. The club is just 
around the corner. Is there anything else I can do for 
you? 

Nora. No, thank you. 

[The sound of the opening and closing of a door is 
heard. 
Rogers. I think that's Mr. Crawford now. [He goes to 
the door.] Yes, it is. 

[He leaves the room. Nora stands at the fireplace, 
nervously twisting her handkerchief, Crawford 
enters. 

62 



ACT III] THE CHORiUS LADY 63 

Crawford. Oh, it's you. [He goes to her and takes her 
hands.'] This is a pleasant surprise. I'm sorry I wasn't 
here to welcome you, but you've said ''no" so many times 
I'd given up hope. Why, how pretty you look! It's only 
nine o'clock. How did you get away so early? 

Nora. [Moving away.] I didn't go on tonight. I — I 
wanted to see you. 

Craw^ford. [Following her.] Not half so much as I 
wanted to see you. Come sit down and be comfortable. 
We'll have a bite to eat and something to drink, 

Nora. I can't, Mr. Crawford. I've got to get back to 
the theatre right away. 

Crawford. Oh, that's all right. They won't make any 
trouble. I stand pretty well at the Longacre and I'll 
square it for you. 

Nora. It isn't the theatre, Mr. Crawford. I'm in great 
trouble. 

Crawford. Why, what's the matter? 

Nora. Father and mother are in front tonight. I must 
have that note I signed. 

Crawford. [Uneasily.] Does O'Brien know about it? 

Nora. No. 

Crawford. [Relieved.] Don't let that worry you. We'll 
talk it over presently. There's loads of time. We've the 
whole evening. 

Nora. No, no. I must go home right away. I must 
have that note. I can't face him without it. I'm a forger. 
Why did you make me a forger? I didn't know. I'm hor- 
ribly afraid. 

[She drops into a chair by the table and covers her 
face with her hands. Crawford comes to her, takes 
her hands from her face and kisses them. 

Crawford. Afraid? Of whom? 

Nora. Of father. Of you. You'll give it to me, won't 
you? I'll pay you the money somehow. 

Crawford. [Meaningly.] I don't want the money. 
[Nora relieved.] I want you. 



64 THE CHORUS LADY [act in 

[He leans over and kisses her. Nora is frightened, 

Nora. Oh, please, Mr. Crawford. 

[She runs away from him. Crawford follows her. 

Crawford. Don't you care about me at all? 

Nora. Why — ^yes — but please give me that note and let 
me go. I'll come some other time and have supper with 
you. 

Crawford. But there's no time like the present. Why, 
you're shivering. Sit here by the fire and I'll get you a 
glass of something. [He places her in the chair at fireplace 
and crosses to the table. There is a knock at the door.] 
Come in! 

Rogers. Mr. Mallory's calling, sir. 

Crawford. Mallory? 

Nora. [Rising quickly in alarm.] Dan I 

Crawford. I'm not at home. 

Rogers. Beg pardon, sir, but he telephoned earlier in 
the evening. He said it was important business and I told 
him you'd be here, sir. I'm sorry, sir, but I didn't think 
you'd be engaged. 

Crawford. [To Nora.] What's he doing in town? 

Nora. He came with mother and father. 

Crawford. Show him in. [Rogers goes. Nora ex- 
claims.] That's all right. You wait in here. I'll get rid 
of him. 

Nora. I'm so frightened. 

Crawford. Nbnsense. 

[He puts her quickly into the bedroom and closes the 
door as Rogers enters, followed by Dan. 

Rogers. Mr. Mallory. 

Crawford. Hello, Mallory. 

Dan. How are you, Crawford? 

Crawford. Rogers, take Mr. Mallory^s coat. 

Dan. Can't stop but a minute. [Rogers goes.] I left 
O'Brien an' his wife at the theatre, an' told them I'd run 
over to see you but promised to be back after the first act; 
Surprised you, eh? 



ACT III] THE CHORUS LADY 65 

Crawford. Rather! 

[He sits. 

Dan. Thought I'd run up to town an' talk over that Mc- 
Govern matter. The old folks had got to worryin' about 
the girls, so I brought them along. Mrs. O'Brien got it 
into her head that somethin' was wrong, 

Crawford. [Startled.] Has she heard anything? 

Dan. No,, a dream or somethin'. You know what moth- 
ers are. 

[He sits. 

Crawford. [Relieved.] I guess her girls are all right. 

Dan. Sure, seen 'em lately? 

Crawford. I've run into them on the street a couple of 
times and of course I've seen them in the piece. 

Dan, Great show, ain't it? I came up for the openin'. 
Nora did mighty well for a new beginner, but, say, isn't 
Pat great? When she comes on in that second act leadin' 
that bunch of girls in that white dress with all those shiny 
fiumidoodles an' that sassy hat perched on her little blonde 
head, she's the hit of the show to me. 

Crawford. Looks pretty nice. 

Dan, She ought to be playin' a part. Maybe it's just 
as well. She wouldn't be so willin' to give it up, I haven't 
said anythin' before, Crawford, but if the stable keeps on 
with this run of luck you'll be gettin' a weddin' invitation 
one of these days. 

Crawford. Congratulations, old man. Here, we ought 
to have a drink on that. [He rises and pours a couple of 
drinks from a decanter on the table.] To Pat! 

Dan, [Rising.] To Pat! 

Crawford. Here's hoping you're happy. 

Dan. Happy? It's a cinch. [They drink.] Well, I 
guess I've landed McGovern. 

Crawford. Good work. 

[They sit. 

Dan. Yes, it means a big thing for the stable. When 
the wise ones find out that old McGovern, the wisest boy 



66 THE CHORUS LADY [act m 

of 'em all, pays a good stiff figure for Lady Belle, it will 
give the string a good boost an' we ought to get fancy prices. 
Crawford. [Offering a cigar.] What are you holding 
Lady Belle at? 

Dan. Five thousand. 

Crawford. And 

Dan. We've done a tall stunt of hagglin' but he was 
around to see me tonight before dinner. I told him to call 
you up. He'll run up a telephone bill for five dollars try- 
ing to get you to take four thousand nine hundred an' 
ninety nine. He's a gabby old guy, but don't let him wear 
you out. He'll pay the figure. 

Crawford. I like your nerve, sicking him at me. 
Dan. Had to get rid of him somehow. He'd be talkin' 
yet an' I was hungry. 

[Enter Rogers. 
Rogers. Telephone, sir. 
Dan. I'll bet that's McGovem now. 

[He goes over to the table at the left in search of 
matches. Crawford, rising, glances uneasily 
towards the door to the bedroom. Dan turns 
and Crawford, seeing that Dan is looking at him 
curiotisly, laughs and leaves the room. The door to 
the bedroom opens. Nora looks out, sees Dan, 
whose back is turned to her as he lights his cigar. 
She makes an exclamation of dismay. Dan turns 
quickly and sees her hand as it is closing the door. 
He chuckles. 
Dan. Gee, I guess I'm buttin' in on somethin'. 
Crawford. [Entering.] It's for you, Mallory. 
Dan. Now see here, Crawford, that isn't fair. I've had 
more than my share of McGovem. 

Crawford. It isn't McGovern. It's someone at the 
Longacre Theatre. 

Dan. [Alarmed.] The theatre! Wonder what's up? 
[He goes. Crawford runs to the bedroom door, opens 
it and Nora appears. 



ACT III] THE CHORUS LADY 67 

Nora. Has he gone? 

Crawford. Not yet, but he will be very soon. 

Nora. [Alarmed.] He doesn't suspect that I'm here? 

Crawford. Why should he? 

Nora. [Plaintively.] I don't know, but I wish I were at 
home. 

Crawford. Now, don't get rattled. 

Nora. He won't find me? 

Crawford. Not if I can help it. 

[Dan's latigh is heard outside. Crawford hastily 
closes the door and moves to the centre of the room. 
Dan enters laughing. 

Dan. It was O'Brien. He says they can't find their 
girls on the stage an' Mrs. O'Brien's in the lobby insistin' 
that someone has stolen their darlin's. Isn't it rich? 
They don't recognise 'em in their stage get-up. I must 
get a move on. I bet O'Brien has his hands full. Where's 
my hat? I'll call you up in the mornin' before I leave. 
What's the quickest way down town? 

Crawford. You can take the Subway at 86th street, get 
off at 42nd street. 

Dan. Well, good night. 

Crawford. Good night. [Dan leaves and presently the 
door is heard to slam outside. Crawford goes up to the 
fireplace, presses the button, then pours another drink. 
Rogers enters.] I will want a bite of supper later. 

Rogers. Yes, sir. When? 

Crawford. In about an hour. 

Rogers. What would you like, sir? 

Crawford. I don't know. What would you suggest? 
Birds? 

Rogers. Hardly, sir. You've got to be eddicated up to 
birds. I should say a chicken salad and ice cream and a 
sweet champagne. 

Crawford. I can't eat that truck. 

Rogers. No, sir. Certainly not, sir. 



68 THE CHORUS LADY [act hi 

[The door bell rings sharply, then again. Rogers 
hurries to answer it. 

Crawford. Who the devil is that? 

[The voices of Pat and Rogers are heard outside in 
excited argument. 

Pat. I must see him. 

Rogers. But you can't see him, Miss. 

Pat. I will see him. [^She bursts into the room, followed 
by Rogers.] Is my sister here? 

Crawford. Your sister? 

Pat. Yes, Nora. 

Crawford. I've just come in. My man might know. 
Rogers, has a young lady called within the last five min- 
utes? 

Rogers. No, sir. 

Crawford. That will do, Rogers. 

[Rogers leaves. 

Pat. That's kind a funny. She ain't at the show shop. 
I thought sure she came here. 

Crawford. Did Miss Nora say she was coming here? 

Pat. No. 

[Crawford shrugs his shoulders. Pat is discon- 
certed. 

Crawford. Perhaps she went home. 

Pat. She had a date with you, didn't she? [Crawford 
pretends blank ignorance.] You asked her out to supper, 
didn't you? 

Crawford. I've invited her several times, but we haven't 
had supper together yet. 

Pat. Maybe I got here ahead of her. Maybe she'll be 
here later. 

Crawford. I haven't received any word that she'll be 
here later. 

Pat. Well, I gotta see her important. I'll wait a few 
minutes if you don't mind. 

Crawford. [Annoyed.] Certainly not. 



ACT III] THE CHORUS LADY 69 

Pat. You ain't awful affable. I could use a chair if it 
was handed me. 

Crawford. I beg your pardon, Miss O'Brien. 
[He offers her a chair. Pat sits wearily, and to Craw- 
ford's intense annoyance begins to remove her hat. 

Pat. Gee, I'm tired. I done a hard chase here. Ain't 
it awful the way those hat pins can crimp you? Would 
I be takin' a liberty if I asked for a drink? 

Crawford. Certainly not. What will it be, a glass of 
champagne? 

Pat. Nix with the wealthy water. 

Crawford. A glass of beer? 

Pat. No suds in mine. Just plain croton. [Crawford 
goes to get her a glass of water. Pat rises and walks 
about.'] This place is awful cute and cozy. You must en- 
joy life to beat the band, nothin' on your mind but your 
hair. [Pat sees the door to the bedroom and goes toward 
it.l How many rooms you got? 

Crawford. Two. 

Pat. [At the door.] Where does this door go to? 

Crawford. [Casually.'] Oh, that's a sort of closet for 
my man. [Pat moves away. Crawford gives her the 
glass.] Here's looking at you. [Pat drinks.] Aren't 
you dancing tonight? 

Pat. [Sitting.] No, I got the pip in me ankle. Got too 
gay at rehoisal yesterday. 

Crawford. [Making conversation.] Dancing must be 
very hard work. It looks so acrobatic. 

Pat. The smile's the hard part a dancin'. It's no cinch 
stannin' on one toe with the other pointin' to a quarter to 
six, an' then look like the cat that's just eat the canary. 
I've often wished I'd gone into Wall Street. I got a great 
head for biziness. Now, Nora's just the opposite. Won- 
der where she is? Oh, well, no use worryin'. I'm en- 
joyin' myself. [She takes off her coat.] Gee, it's hot in 
here. Say, what was we talkin' about? 

Crawford. [Sarcastically.] Yourself, I think. 



5^0 THE CHORUS LADY [act m 

Pat. [Meaningly.'] Let's talk about Nora. 

Crawford. Nora? 

Pat. Yes, Nora. [With menace.] I want you to let 
my sister alone. She's new to the game an' she's a good 
kid. 

Crawford. I guess she's able to take care of herself, and 
when a girl's good 

Pat. She's good anywhere. I know all about that. An' 
that other one about "the wages a sin bein' death." Well, 
maybe, but say, when you're scrimpin' along on twenty 
per an' the next girl to you in the dressin'-room comes 
down to the show shop every night in a benzine buzz 
waggin, in ermine capes and diamonds big as oysters, it 
ain't religion so much as a firm grip on home and mother 
that keeps you handin' out the icy eye to the man behind 
the bank roll. You see, Nora's an awful ninny. Why, she 
even thinks that note you've gotta hers is good. Honest, 
when she told me I nearly laffed myself to death. 

[She laughs, 

Crawford. [Annoyed.] It's good, all right. 

Pat. Quit yer kiddin'. 

Crawford. It's good for three hundred dollars. 

Pat. Get a transfer, Crawford; get a transfer. It's only 
a forgery an' a bum one at that. 

Crawford. I don't believe Mr. P. O'Brien would put it 
to protest if I presented it at my bank for payment. 

Pat. But you ain't goin' to do that. 

Crawford. That depends. 

Pat. [^'Jollying" him.] You wouldn't show Nora up to 
her father. You're too good a sport fer that. 

Crawford. I'm a good sport all right but I'm not a 
mark. That money is due me honestly and I'm going to 
get value received. 

Pat. [Angrily.] Honestly! You don't call leadin' a girl 
a seventeen into makin' a fool a herself an' puttin' her 
father's name to paper honest? If you ask me, it's a 
bunk. 



ACT III] THE CHOR^US LADY 71 

Crawford. But I'm not asking you. If you please we'll 
not discuss it. 

Pat. [Rising, goes to him.] Sure we'll discuss it, here, 
now. Saves me a trip to your office tomorrow. 

Crawford. This concerns your sister and me. 

Pat. You mean, it's none a my business. 

Crawford. Precisely. 

Pat. I'm going to make it my business. This note with 
the phoney signature brings Pop an' the family into the 
muss. 

Crawford. The matter is entirely between your sister 
and me. We are competent to manage our affairs. 

Pat. You can manage yours all right, but I'll have a hand 
in managin' my sister's or know the reason why. I've 
promised my mother to take care a her an' you bet your 
life I'm goin' to. 

Crawford. And I'm going to protect my interests. 

Pat. You're not goin' about it right. Your interest in 
Dan Mallory's stable's a pretty good thing, ain't it? 

Crawford. What has that to do with it? 

Pat. You get gay with that phoney note, an^ I'll show 
you up. [Jeeringly.] Dan wouldn't do a thing to you. 

Crawford. He wouldn't jeopardise the future of his 
stables. 

Pat. He wouldn't? A lot you know about it. He'll 
dump you an' that stable so quick on my say so it'll make 
your head swim. I'm givin' you the right steer, Crawford. 
If you've gotta lick a sense you'll pass over that note, an' 
let me go home. [Picking up her hat and coat.'] I guess 
Nora ain't comin'. 

Rogers. [Enters agitatedly.] Mr. Crawford, Mrs. O'Bri- 
en's in the hall. 

Pat. Mom! 

Crawford. I can't see her. 

Rogers. She won't leave without seeing you. 

[Pat looks about wildly. 



yg THE CHORUS LADY [act hi 

Pat. What'U I do? Where'll I go? 

[She rushes to the door of the bedroom. 
Crawford. No, no, not there. 

[Before Crawford can stop her Pat rmhes into the 
room, slamming the door behind her. An instant's 
pause, then Pat's voice is heard in heartbroken sur- 
prise exclaiming "Nora." Rogers shows in Mrs. 
O'Brien. She wears her ^'Sunday best,'' a black 
silk dress, a fichu, a Paisley shawl and a bonnet. 
She is very much agitated. She glances quickly 
about the room. 
Crawford. Good evening, Mrs. O'Brien. 
Mrs. O'Brien. Good evenin', Mr. Crawford. 
Crawford, Won't you be seated? 

[Crawford's manner reassures Mrs. O'Brien, who 
controls herself and sits. 
Mrs. O'Brien. Thank you, sir. I hope you'll pardon 
the intrusion. 

Crawford. [Sitting."] It's not an intrusion, I assure you. 
[There is a pause. Mrs. O'Brien is embarrassed, and 
makes several efforts to address Crawford. She 
finally plucks up courage. 
Mrs. O'Brien. I'm in great distress, Mr. Crawford. 
Crawford. Yes? 

Mrs. O'Brien. I've had a terrible fright. I can't find 
trace of me girls. 

Crawford. Indeed? Can I be of any assistance to you? 

[There is another pause. 
Mrs. O'Brien. [More embarrassed.] I've somethin' to 
ask you, Mr. Crawford. Promise you won't take an of- 
fence at an old woman. 
Crawford. Certainly not. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Do you know aught of my Nora? 
Crawford. I don't understand. 
Mrs. O'Brien. Mallory was here, was he not? 
Crawford. Yes. 



ACT III], THE CHORUS LADY 73 

Mrs. O'Brien. You were here when O'Brien telephoned. 

Crawford. Yes. He said you didn't recognise your 
daughters on the stage. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Good reason, they weren't there. I 
couldn't wait fer Danny to come, so O'Brien an' me found 
our way to the back door of the theatre, thinkin' they 
might be in their dressin'-rooms. 

Crawford. They were not there? 

Mrs. O'Brien. They sent down a young lady, a Miss 
Simpson, and she says to me, that they didn't know where 
Pat was, but that maybe Nora had gone to Mr. Craw- 
ford's. O'Brien was for comin' here, but he's hasty an' I 
thought he might offend you, so I persuaded him to go 
home. 

Crawford. [Rises.'] I'm very sorry, Mrs. O'Brien, not 
to be able to give you any assistance. 

Mrs. O'Brien. [Rising.] How comes my Nora's name to 
be linked with yours? 

Crawford. That's chorus girl gossip. I've tried to be 
nice to the girls because of my friendship for you and 
O'Brien. 

Mrs. O'Brien. 'Tis meant kindly, Mr. Crawford, but it 
has done harm for what that young woman intimated made 
me ashamed for me darlin'. 

Crawford. I'm very sorry, Mrs. O'Brien. I meant no 
harm. 

Mrs. O'Brien. 'Tis relieved I am to find she's not here. 
She and Pat's off somewhere together, likely. 

Crawford. Quite probably. Did they expect you? 

Mrs. O'Brien. No. 'Twas my idea to surprise them. 
Danny left word but I misdoubt they got it. I'll just be 
goin' along. Thank you, Mr. Crawford, for your kind- 
ness. 

[She turns to go. Rogers enters, 

Rogers. Mr. Mallory is here, sir. 

[Dan rushes past Rogers into the room. 



74 THE CHORUS LADY' [act iii 

Dan. [To Mrs. O'Brien.] I followed you. O'Brien 
said you had come here for Nora. 

[Rogers leaves, 

Mrs. O'Brien. She's not here. 

Dan. I'm not so sure of that. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Whatever do you mean, Danny? 

Crawford. [Indignantly.] Yes, I'd like to know what 
you mean? 

Dan. Miss Simpson was very positive that Nora had 
come to see you. 

Crawford. I'm quite as positive that Miss Simpson was 
mistaken. 

Dan. Nora is not here? 

Crawford. Of course not. 

Dan. [Going towards him.'] Who was the woman in that 
room when I was here before? 

Crawford. What woman? 

Dan. The woman you hid in there when I was an- 
nounced. The woman who stole out of that room while 
you were at the telephone, thinkin' I had gone. She saw 
me an' stole back again. I saw her hand closin' the door. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Are you deceivin' me, Mr. Crawford? 

Crawford. Deceiving you, Mrs. O'Brien? 

Mrs. O'Brien. For the love of God don't tell me my 
Nora's there. 

Crawford. I have already told you, Mrs. O'Brien, that 
I know nothing about your daughter. That Nora's not 
here. Mr. Mallory's talking nonsense. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Sure, Dan, Mr. Crawford's given you his 
word ; come away, boy. 

Dan. I'll come away when I have had a look through 
that other room. 

[He starts for the bedroom. Crawford, trying to 
intercept him, is thrown aside roughly by Dan who 
pulls the door open. Pat, who has been holding it 
closed, is dragged into the room. She closes the 
door hastily and stands against it, barring the way. 



ACT III] THE CHORUS LADY 75 

Mrs. O'Brien. [Sinking into a chair.] Pat! You, that 
I thought was good as gold. 

Pat. I'm not what you both think. 

Dan. Then what brings you here in the night to this 
man's rooms? Speak to me. [Pat is silent.] Answer me. 

Pat. I came here to see Mr. Crawford on a matter a 
business. 

Mrs. O'Brien. [Rising.] Come away with us, girl. 

Pat. I can't. 

Dan. You can't, why not? 

Crawford. You'd better go. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Come Pat, your father may follow us 
here at any moment. 

Crawford. I'd advise you to go. I don't want a scene 
with O'Brien. 

Dan. [Turning on Crawford.] O'Brien was right. He 
never trusted you, you blackguard, destroyin' the daughter 
of the man that made you welcome in his home, deceivin' 
him, deceivin' me that believed in you, deceivin' her, bring- 
in' shame on her. By God — I'll 

[He goes towards Crawford threateningly. Pat stops 
him quickly. 

Pat. Don't quarrel, Dan. I've had enough to bear. I 
don't want to separate you two. Think what you'll lose. 

Dan. [Turning on her.] Lose? I've lost every thin', 
losin' you. [To Crawford.] We're down an' out from 
now, Crawford. 

Crawford. As you please, and now that our affairs are 
in a measure settled 

Dan. [Grimly.] Settled? We've just begun. 

Pat. No, no, Dan. I know everythin's dead against 
me, but you don't know, you don't know. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Know? We know you've brought dis- 
grace on me an' your old father an' Nora. Where is she? 
What have you done with my Nora? [Bitterly.] You 
that was to watch over her? 

Pat. I've t^ken care a her all right. 



76 THE CHORUS LADY [act hi 

Dan. How? By passin' her off to them girls at the the- 
atre as this man's sweetheart? 

Pat. Who said that? 

Dan. The Simpson woman. Didn't you lead them to 
think that Nora was comin' to his rooms, when it was your- 
self? Where is she? 

Pat. I don't know where she is. We've quarrelle' 

Dan. About this man? 

Pat. Yes, about this man. 

Mrs. O'Brien. [To Dan.] Come, it will do no good to 
stay. 

Crawford. She's right, Mallory. I advise you to go. 
I've had a few hard things said to me tonight, and I'm not 
in the humour for any more. 

Dan. You'll have a few hard things done to you before 
I get through with you. 

Pat. No, no, Dan. I can explain. [Dan ttirns to her 
hopefully.'] But not now, you've gotta trust me. 

Dan. I did trust you. I trusted him an' you've both 
made a fool of me. 

Pat. No, no, Dan. Take Mom away; I can make it all 
right with you. 

Dan. [Contemptuously.'] You can make it all right with 
me? I suppose you think I'm not wise to the kind of 
woman you've turned out to be. I suppose you thought 
when he got through with you an' he cast you off you'd 
come to me. He's one of the rich men you wuz willin' to 
give up for me. Well, you needn't. If money counts for 
more than love you're welcome to it an' to him. 

[He turns to leave. 

Pat. [Following him.] Love, a lot you know about it. 
•Love is trust. An' you're the man I banked on an* the 
first minute I puts you to the test you fall down hard. If 
you think I'm bad you can think it. I'm through with 
you. 

[She takes her position again at the door. 



ACT III] THE CHORUS LADY 77 

Mrs. O'Brien. [Angrily.] Have you no shame to stand 
there and brazen it out before the man who loves you? 
ITo Dan.] Let her father settle with this man. 

Dan. No. Do you think he's goin' to wreck her life 
an' wreck all my hopes an' go scot free? No, he's goin' 
to answer to me. 

[He advances menacingly towards Crawford. 
Crawford. I'm not going to fight with you. I'm not 
going to have my name mixed up in a dirty scandal with 
a lot of race track hangers-on and chorus girls. I've had 
enough of this. I've had enough of the lot of you. You'll 
leave my house, all of you, every last one of you. 

[He makes a movement towards the bedroom. Pat 
stops him. 
Pat. [Imploringly.'] No, no, not that, not after all I've 
done. There won't be any scandal. There won't be any 
fight. I'll get rid of 'em. [She goes over to Dan.] 
Why don't you leave us? What do you want me to do? 
What more do you want me to say? I love this man. 
He's everythin' to me. You're nothin' to me. Don't 
stand lookin' at me like that. Go! Go! 

[Mrs. O'Brien, crying, goes towards the door to the 
hall. Dan looks at Pat who apparently defies him, 
then he leads Mrs. O'Brien gently from the room. 
As the door closes Pat makes an impulsive move to 
follow them, then stops and breaks into heart- 
broken sobbing. Crawford watches her, then, 
moved to sympathy, comes to her. 
Crawford. You needn't mind about that money. You 
needn't pay. 

Pat. [Bitterly ^^ I needn't pay? [She turns on him furi- 
ously^ I have paid with my good name, with my moth- 
er's trust. With the love of the man I've loved all my 
life. That's what I've paid to save my sister from you, 
you beast. I suppose you and your kind think when you 
take some poor devil of a girl starvin' for a little comfort, 
a minute or two a happiness, an' you make her a thing 



78 THE CHORUS LADY [act hi 

that good women won't look at, I suppose you think your 
measly money pays. Pays for the homes you ruin, the 
mothers' hearts you break, the girls you send to hell. You 
pay! No, it's the woman that pays, and pays and pays. 
[She is sobbing in an hysterical rage as the curtain 
jails. 



THE FOURTH ACT 

The parlour of a jour-room flat in Harlem occupied by Pat 
and Nora. It is characteristically "cheap" the wood- 
work is painted in an imitation golden oak, the wall- 
paper garish. It is a very small room; at the back is 
a door opening into the main hall of the building, on 
the right a door to the bedroom, on the left the open- 
ing to an alcove which serves as the dining-room. 
There are only a few articles of furniture in the room 
and these are plainly of the installment plan type. On 
the walls are numerous signed photographs of musical 
comedy favourites, and gaudily coloured "Art" repro- 
ductions. The room is in darkness. As the curtain 
rises a key is heard turning in the lock. Pat enters 
from the door to the hall. She is tired, dejected. 
Nora, wearing a simple house gown, enters from the 
dining-room. 

Nora. Hush! 

Pat. Are they here? 

Nora. Mom's waiting in there. 

Pat. Where's Dan? 

Nora. Gone to the hotel for Pop. 

Pat. Did you beat 'em here? 

Nora. Yes. 

Pat. Gee, that was luck. I was scared green. [She 
turns on the light.'] What'd you tell 'em? 

Nora. What you said. I took sick before the show and 
had to come home. 

Pat. Did they say anythin' about me? 

Nora. Asked me if I knew where you were. I said I 
left you at the theatre. 

79 



80 THE CHORUS LADY [act iv 

Pat. That's good. 

Nora. It's twelve o'clock. Where have you been? 

Pat. [Sitting wearily.] Ridin' round on the "L" tryin' 
to get up nerve to face Pop. I'd 'a' given my eye teeth to 
a kept this from him. Too late now. Mom'll tell him 
every thin'. 

Nora. [Peevishly.] Oh, if you hadn't hidden from Mom. 

Pat. I got rattled. 

Nora. [Angrily.] You had no business following me. 

Pat. Lucky I did an' found you before it was too late. 

Nora. You've only gotten yourself into trouble and 
haven't helped me. 

Pat. 'Spose I thought I run any risk with Dan? 'Spose 
I thought for a minute he wouldn't trust me, wouldn't be- 
lieve I was true an' good, no matter how appearances was 
against me? 

Nora. Don't you think he'll make up? 

Pat. I don't know nor I don't care. Serves me right. 
If I'd a kept my promise to Mom to watch over you 'stead 
of bein' so took up with my own business that I left you 
to run around with that Simpson woman, it all needn't have 
happened. I'm to blame an' I gotta pay for it. 

Nora. How are we going to get the money for the note? 

Pat. We'll save it outa what we earn. 

Nora. You promised you'd get it from Dan. 

Pat. Ask Dan Mallory for money? Ain't there any 
limit to what you want me to do for you? Ask him for 
money? I'd scrub floors first. I'm dead to the woild. 
Make me a cup of coffee, will you? 

[Nora goes out. Pat sits a moment in thought, then 
begins to cry softly. 

Pat. Oh, Dan, Dan! 

[There is a ring at the door bell. Pat starts to her 
feet. Mrs. O'Brien enters from the bedroom. 

Mrs. O'Brien. [Severely.] So you've come home, have 
you? [Pat is silent. Mrs. O'Brien opens the door, 
Dan comes in.] Oh, 'tis you, Dan. Where's O'Brien? 



ACT IV] THE CHORUS LADY 81 

Dan. I couldn't find him. He hadn't been at the hotel. 

Pat. Haven't you two seen Pop tonight? 

Dan. No. 

Pat. Then I want you both to promise me that you 
won't say nothin' to him of what you seen tonight. He'd 
only make a muss with Crawford. No good'U come a that. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Lave you an' that man to your carryin* 
on! No! 

Pat. You keep quiet an' I'll promise never to see Craw- 
ford again. Don't you see I'm doin' this for Pop's sake? 
No need for him to know. 

Mrs. O'Brien. The kind of a girl you are. 

Pat. [Sadly.] The kind of a girl I am. You'll prom- 
ise. It's the last think I'll ever ask you, Mom. Say you 
will for his sake, for the sake a me that was dear to you 
once, say you won't tell.- 

[Mrs. O'Brien looks at her, then at Dan. Pat goes 
over quickly to Dan. 

Pat. Won't you promise? Are you goin' to tell? 

Dan. Tell? Do you think I want to break your father's 
heart like you've broken mine? 

Mrs. O'Brien. An' you'll promise never to see Craw- 
ford again? 

Pat. Yes, yes. 

[Mrs. O'Brien looks helplessly at Dan who shows by 
a look that she mmt consent. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Then I won't tell. 

Pat. That's fixed. 

[She turns to leave the room. 

Dan. [Following.'] What lie are you goin' to frame up 
for your father? 

Pat. I'll tell him it's all off with you an' me. That's 
no lie. 

Mrs. O'Brien. You'll have to think a somethin' better 
nor that to convince your father. He'll want some good 
reason for me takin' Nora home with me. 

Pat. You're goin' to take Nora away from me? 



82 THE CHORUS LADY [act iv 

Mrs. O'Brien. It's high time she was out a this. 

Pat. Then I ain't goin' to have no one. You don't 
think I'm fit to have my honey lamb around. You think 
I'd make my sister bad. Oh, my God! Oh, my God! 

[She leaves the room in a passion of tears. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Dan. I almost misdoubt me own senses. 
It's hard to believe her bad. Oh, what's to become of her? 

[She sits and begins to cry, 

Dan. [Going to her.] You must take her home with you. 
You can't leave her here alone to be tempted again by that 
man. No one knows but you an' me? 

Mrs. O'Brien. But what if O'Brien's gone to Craw- 
ford's? 

Dan. Crawford won't tell him. You heard him say he 
didn't want a row on his hands. You'll take her. Who'll 
stand by her if you won't? 

Mrs. O'Brien. She won't listen to me. [She rises, and 
goes to Dan.] Help me to persuade her.' I've no one to 
lean on but you, boy. You'll have a talk with her? 

Dan. Yes. 

Mrs. O'Brien. An' you won't leave me to face O'Brien 
alone? 

Dan. [Soothing her.] Don't worry. It'll be all right. 

Mrs. O'Brien. God love you, Danny boy. 

[She goes into the bedroom. Dan stands looking 
after Mrs. O'Brien. Nora enters hurriedly, ex- 
citedly. 

Nora. [Indignantly.] What's this about me going home? 
Pat says Mom's going to take me away. 

Dan. She thinks it best. 

Nora. [Angrily.] I don't want to go home. I can't live 
down on that farm now. I won't. No fun nor nothing. 
I've had enough to bear without being dragged into the 
country. Why, they've promised me a part in the next 
show. Besides, I ain't going to run away and have those 
girls gossiping about me. [Dan turns to her.] I'll get 



ACT iv] THE CHORUS LADY 8S 

even with Sylvia Simpson for getting me into this mess. 
Jealous cat! 

Dan. Jealous? Of what? 

Nora. Of everything. 'Cause I'm younger and prettier 
than she is. 'Cause I'm going to have the part she wanted. 
Talking about me to people. 

Dan. She said you were at Crawford's room tonight. 

Nora. I know. Sent Mom and Pop chasing after me. 

Dan. Oh, you know that? 

Nora. [Flustered.] Yes. Mom told me. 

Dan. Your mother told you? 

Nora. Yes, and that ain't the worst of it. Oh, Dan, 
we're in awful trouble. 

Dan. What is it? 

Nora. We — er — we — er 

Dan. Come on, if I'm to get you out of this I must know 
aJl about it. 

Nora. I'll tell you, Dan, because I know you'll stand by 
us for Mom's sake. 

Dan. Well? 

Nora. We owe money and — ^and — Pat says we can save 
it out of what we earn. But how are we goin' to save three 
hundred dollars? 

Dan. Three hundred dollars! Don't bother about it 
any more. I'll pay it for you. 

Nora. That wouldn't do. 

Dan. Why not? 

Nora. I'd rather you'd give me the money. 

Dan. Give you the money? How can you explain it to 
Pat? 

Nora. She can't say anything if the note is paid. 

Dan. The note? 

Nora. Well, we had to raise money somehow. Pat prom- 
ised she'd get it from you, but she won't now you've quar- 
relled. 

Dan. How do you know we've quarrelled? 

Nora. [Lying.] Pat told me. 



84. THE CHORUS LADY [act iv 

Dan. All right. I'll give it to you. 

Nora. Oh, Dan, you are good. You don't know what 
you've saved us from. 

Dan. That's all right. I'd like to speak to Pat. 

JSToRA. Oh, you'll spoil everything if you tell Pat. 

Dan. Leave it to me. I'm only goin' to do what's right. 
[Nora goes. Dan stands pondering the information 
he has secured from Nora. He feels that Pat's pres- 
ence in Crawford's room is in some way connected 
with Nora. Pat enters. 

Pat. [Coldly.-] Well? 

Dan. Will you let me speak to you, please? 

Pat. What can we have to say to each other now? 

Dan. Nothin' about tonight. Let that go as it lays. 
I'd like to ask a favour of you. 

Pat. What right 

Dan. [Hastily.'] I've no rights now. But I want your 
help. Forget me in this. It's for your mother. 

Pat. I guess she don't want nothin' from me, not love 
even. 

Dan. She's been hard on you. 

Pat. She thinks I gave her cause. 

Dan. What do you think? 

Pat. [Bitterly.] I ain't thinkin'. I don't care. 

Dan. But I know there's nothin' you wouldn't do for her. 

Pat. [Sadly.] That's right, though she doesn't seem wise 
to the fact. 

Dan. She wants you to come home. 

Pat. [Joyfully.] Come home with her! Why? [Dan 
is confused. Pat smiles bitterly.] Oh, I see. She can't 
trust me. She don't believe I'd keep my promise. An' 
all I've ever been to her don't count for nothin'. 

Dan. No, no, she loves you. She's willin' to stand by 
you. 

Pat. [Indignantly.] Then why doesn't she come to me 
an' say it herself? Why does she send you? 

Dan. She thought you mightn't listen to her. She hoped 



ACT IV] THE CHORUS LADY 85 

I could persuade you. That time's past. I see it's useless 
to plead with you. You won't say yes'^ 

Pat. I can't go. What do you think I am? Go down 
home an' have you an' Mom overlookin' things, bein' sorry 
for me, kind to me. Not for mine, thank you. 

Dan. No, I promise you we'll forget 

Pat. An' forgive. Wait till I ask it, will you? 

Dan. Give me a reason why you don't do what your 
mother asks. I must tell her somethin'. Is it because you 
love Crawford? 

Pat. [Scornfully.'] Love him. Love him! 

Dan. Then why? 

Pat. Look here, what right have you to stand there givin' 
me the thoid degree? I can't go, and I won't go. And that 
settles it. 

[She starts to leave the room, 

Dan. Is it the money? 

Pat. [Surprised.] The money? 

Dan. Nora's told me. I'm going to pay the note. 

Pat. You're goin' to pay Crawford? 

Dan. Crawford! Then it is Crawford! Now I see. 
[He rushes to the door to the bedroom.] Mrs. O'Brien! 
Mrs. O'Brien! 

[Enter Mrs. O'Brien. 

Pat. [Despairingly.] What are you goin' to do? 

Dan. I'm goin' to show you up. I'm goin' to tell your 
mother the kind of a girl you are; tell her I know all about 
you an' Crawford; tell her that you didn't stop at any 
lengths to save your sister; that it was Nora who owed the 
money to Crawford, Nora who was in that room; tell her 
that I'm the biggest fool on earth, the lowest dog alive to 
doubt for one minute the girl I love, the girl who's too good 
for me, too good for any of us. 

[Much moved, he turns away, Mrs. O'Brien goes 
quickly to Pat. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Pat. Oh, my girl. [There is a ring at! 



SQ THE CHORUS LADY [act iv 

the door bell.] 'Tis O'Brien. [Dan opens the door. En- 
ter O'Brieis.] Where have you been? 

O'Brien. To Crawford's. 

Mrs. O'Brien. Why, the girls are here. 

Dan. Nora was at home, in bed, asleep. 

O'Brien. So! An' [pointing to Pat] where was she? 

Pat. Where was I? 

[A pause. Dan and Mrs. O'Brien indicate their fear 
that Crawford has told everything to O'Brien. 

Mrs. O'Brien. [Reassuringly.] That talk of Nora and 
Crawford was gossip, the clatter of an idle tongue. 

O'Brien. Was it? Then what's this? [He shows a 
slip of paper crumpled in his hand. He goes to Pat.] 
What's this? If it's idle talk, why won't this man Craw- 
ford see me? If it's gossip, how comes he to have a note 
for money I never had, an' signed by me? "Tell him I 
can't see him," that was his message by his man. "But 
that I send him a souvenir of my acquaintance with his 
daughter, an' that I'll thank him for the money." Well, 
girl, haven't you a tongue in your head? Who signed 
"P. O'Brien" to that paper? You dared to — use my name. 
[There is a pause. Pat is nonplussed. Dan comes 
to O'Brien. 

Dan. It's her own name. 

O'Brien. What? 

Dan. [Taking the note.] It's signed "P. O'Brien." Why 
shouldn't she sign it? Why shouldn't she get money from 
Crawford? It's owin' to me, an' what's mine's hers. 

Pat. [Tearfully.] Oh, Dan. 

Dan. Crawford an' me's had a run in. I've quit him 
an' he's sore tryin' to make trouble. 

O'Brien. What would she be doin' with that amount a 
money? 

Dan. That would be tellin'. That's our secret. 

O'Brien. But 

Mrs. O'Brien. [Going to O'Brien.] Mind your own 



ACT iv] THE CHORUS LADY 87 

business, Patrick. It's the excitable man ye are, careerin^ 
all over the town, an' us waitin' supper for ye. 

O'Brien. [He goes to Pat.] Forgive me, girl. 'Twas 
all a mistake. 

Pat. Forget it, Pop. 

[She kisses him, 
O'Brien. Where's Nora? 

Pat. In the kitchen. [O'Brien goes.} Mom, be spe- 
cial kind to Nora. She's as good as gold. 

Mrs. O'Brien. God love you for the good girl ye are, 
and may HE forgive your ould mother. 

[She folds Pat in her arms, kisses her, then follows 
O'Brien. 
Dan. I'd like to say "Amen" to that. You'll come home 
with me now, Pat? 

[Pat goes smiling into Dan's oid stretched arms. She 
sighs and kisses him. 
Pat. Dan, we'll settle down like a couple of Reubens. 
Us an' the cows. 



THE END 



I 



THE SHOW SHOP 

A FARCICAL SATIRE IN FOUR ACTS 



THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY 

Sadie 

Wilbur Tompkins 

Jerome Belden 

Max Rosenbaum 

Effie Brinkley 

Johnny Brinkley 

Mrs. Dean 

Bettina Dean 

A Night Clerk 

Mr. Billings 

Granby Smith 

A Scene Painter 

Maginnis 

Goldman 

Hickson 

Steve 

Miss Donahue 

Miss Farrington 

Miss Toby 

Monk 

Walters 

The Scenes of the play are laid in the office of Max 
Rosenbaum, New York City, the parlour of the Palace 
Hotel, Punxatawney, the stage of a Broadway Theatre and 
the appartment of Jerome Belden. 

The action covers a period of time from August to Octo^ 
ber, a month intervening between the first and second acts, 
six weeks between the second and third, and fourteen hours 
between the third and fourth. 



THE SHOW SHOP 



Original cast, as first presented at the Hudson Theatre, 

New York, December 31, 19 14. 
It is arranged in the order in which the characters first 

appear. 



Sadie 

Wilbur Tompkins 
Jerome Belden 
Max Rosenbaum 
Effie Brinkley 
Johnny Brinkley 
Mrs. Dean . . 
Bettina Dean . 
A Night Clerk 
Mr. Billings . 
Granby Smith . 
A Scene Painter 
Maginnis . . 
Goldman . . . 

HiCKSON . . . 

Steve .... 
Miss Donahue 
Miss Farrington 
Miss Toby . . 
Monk .... 
Walters . . . 



Edna Aug 
Ned A . Sparks 
Douglas Fairbanks 
George Sidney 
Olive May 
William Sampson 
Zelda Sears 
Patricia Collinge 
Sam Coit 
Stapleton Kent 
Felix Krembs 
William Butler 
Harry G. Bates 
George Colt 
Walter Young 
Charles Emerson 
Lillian Tucker 
Rhy Alexander 
Becky Bruce 
At Gilmore 
Edward Moore 



THE SHOW SHOP 

THE FIRST ACT 

The private office, in a Broadway theatre building, of Max 
RosENBAUM, theatrical manager. On the right of the 
room is a door opening on a hall that leads to a private 
entrance to the stage, on the left a door to the office of 
Rosenbaum's stage director, Wilbur Tompkins, and 
at the back another door to the outer offices and the 
waiting-room. At the left of the room are several 
chairs and a table on which stands a scenic artist's 
model of a stage setting, on the right a fiat-topped desk 
and a swivel chair. Against the walls are filing cabinets 
and above them, encircling the room, is a row of framed 
*' flashlights" of scenes from a Rosenbaum production. 
In the most prominent position, over the centre door, 
is a large framed photograph of Rosenbaum. Tacked 
to the walls are several "half -sheets'' to be used in 
advertising Rosenbaum's forthcoming production, "The 
Wallop." 

It is eleven o'clock of a morning in August. On a bench in 
the waiting-room is the usual row of patient and eter- 
nally hopeful actors and actresses, seeking positions. 
They exchange greetings with Sadie, Rosenbaum's 
secretary, as she comes through the waiting-room into 
the private office. She closes the door. 

Sadie is pretty, quick-witted, clever-tongued, apparently 
bored with life yet incurably romantic. She takes a 
passionate interest in the affairs of the office, waging 
an eternal feud with Tompkins, the stage director; in 
fact, assuming a proprietary attitude toward the busi- 
ness, and, while admiring Rosenbaum enormously, does 

93 



94 THE SHOW SHOP [act i 

not hesitate to criticise even him. She is carrying the 
morning's mail, several telegrams, a manuscript of a 
play and a set of ''parts." As she moves about the 
room she sings a popular, sentimental ballad of the day. 

Sadie. {Singing.'] ''You made me what I yam today " 

[She picks up a newspaper, looks at it, smiles scornfully. 
Has she got her picture in the paper again? {She throws 
it down.] 

[Singing.] "I hope you're satisfied, 

You dragged me down, and down and down, 
That cannot be deny-ed." 

[Laying the parts on the desk. 
"I hope I've copied these parts all right, and 

now that we must part 

[She slams the manuscript on the desk. 
I wish you all kinds of good luck. 
[Singing.] " 'Tis the coise of an achin' heart, 

'Tis the coise " 

[The telephone bell rings sharply. She picks up the re- 
ceiver. Sure, I want it. 7776 Bryant. [Wearily.] 
7-7-7-6 Bryant. [Freezingly.] I beg your pardon ; I gave 
you the right number. [She listens impatiently, then pas- 
sionately exclaims.] As Heaven is my judge, I gave you 
the right number. [She waits.] As woman to woman. 
[She listens again, then grows furiotfsly angry.] Well, 
Madam, if you'll give me a chance I'll explain. I called up 
Central and said I wanted the box-office and wanted to 

speak to the Treasurer, please Yes, that's right 

Yeppie. Three sevens and a six. [Laughs affectedly.] Oh, 
that's all right, dearie. Yes, I'll hold it. [She stands wait- 
ing, shifting from one foot to another, and changing the 
receiver from hand to hand. She sighs and perches on the 
end of the desk and, presently, to relieve the tedium, begins 
to sing the ballad again, emphasising its pathos.] Hello. 
[Crossly.] Hello! [Smiling coyly.] Oh, is that you, 
Harry? This is Sadie. What did the manager say about 



ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP 95 

letting Mr. Rosenbaum have your stage for rehearsal today? 
From eleven till one? Much obliged. Say, Harry, I'd like 
a couple for tonight. Selling cut! Is that so? Ah, go on, 
Harry, slip me a couple and mark 'em "Press." What! 
Take me home after the show? Sure, if anybody's got to 
stand on my feet in the subway I'd just as lief it'd be you, 
darling. ■ 

[As she replaces the receiver Tompkins, a lean, lank 
individual of saturnine appearance, the incarnation 
of pessimism, enters from his office. 

Tompkins. Hello, Sadie! Have the scene models come? 

Sadie. No. 

Tompkins. Get on that phone to that scenic artist. 

Sadie. Hello, give me 261 Greeley, and don't keep me 
waiting like the last time. 

Tompkins. Give him my love and ask him how in thun- 
der I'm going to put on a show without scenery. 

Sadie. 261 Greeley? I'm speaking for Mr. Tompkins, 
Mr. Rosenbaum 's stage manager. 

Tompkins. [Indignantly.] Director! Director! 

Sadie. What about those models for our new play, "The 
Wallop"? [To Tompkins.] Some title! 

Tompkins. Some play! 

Sadie. Mr. Rosenbaum thinks it's a masterpiece. 

Tompkins. It's a mess. 

Sadie. What? All right! [To Tompkins.] Be right 
over. 

Tompkins. Got the script and parts ready? 

Sadie. [Giving him the manuscript and the parts.} 
There's your copy. Take 'em away and chloroform 'em. 
I've had to copy the parts for this show, but you bet your 
life I'll never go to see it. 

Tompkins. There's going to be. a whole lot of people side- 
step this. Where's the fourth act? 

Sadie. Hasn't been handed in yet. I dread it. 

Tompkins. Cheer up, sister; it can't be any worse than 
these. 



96 THE SHOW SHOP [act i 

Sadie. Well, if it is, it's going to make those three acts 
awful envious/) Oh, here's a couple of letters for you. 
^ t 3 Tompkins. [Opening the letters.^ Where's Rosie? 

Sadie. Over to K. & E.'s, battling for a route. {She 
sings.'] ''You made me what I yam today." 

Tompkins. {Wearily.'] Must you do that? 

Sadie. I can't help it if I have an ear for music. 

Tompkins. [Reading the letter.] Gillette's thrown up 
her part. 

[Disgusted y he throws the letter on the desk. 

Sadie. Isn't that the limit! I told Mr. Rosenbaum who 
to get for that part. She's coming in to see him today. 

Tompkins. Who is she? 

Sadie. Bettina Dean. 

Tompkins. Huh I 

Sadie. Best-looking girl that has been in this office this 
season. 

Tompkins. Huh! 

[He reads the second letter. 

Sadie. The only thing that worries me is, if Mr. Rosen- 
baum doesn't like her, I'm afraid I'll have to play the part 
myself. 

Tompkins. You hate yourself, don't you? This letter 
means we lose Gilmore, too. 

[He throws it on the desk. 

Sadie. Are Gillette and Gilmore married? 

Tompkins. Yes, poor Gilmore. 

Sadie. ^ What was he going to playr) Who is he, anyhow? 

Tompkins. Some truck-driver Rosie engaged to play a 
man about town. 

Sadie. Lucky it's a small part. So hard to get leading 
men. All of them dancing at the cabarets. 

Tompkins. [Going.] Time some of the bluffs in this 
business were doing something. 

Sadie. There are a lot of actors waiting out there to see 
you. 

Tompkins. Actors! There are none. 



ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP n 

Sadie. What'U I do? 

Tompkins. Get rid of 'em. 

Sadie. How? 

Tompkins. Tell 'em I'm dead. 

Sadie. That's going to keep them happy all day. 

[Tompkins turns, glares at Sadie, then goes into his 
office, slamming the door. Sadie is laughing when 
the door from the waiting-room is thrown open and 
a breezy, good-looking type of the wealthy American 
youth of today comes in hurriedly. It is Jerome 
Belden. Sadie rises majestically, walks over to him 
and points to the letters on the door. 
Sadie. "Private" isn't painted on the other side of the 
door just to make it look stylish* 
Jerome. I'm looking for Mr. Rosenbaum. 
Sadie. That doesn't give you any license to crowd your 
personality into his private office. 
Jerome. I'm sorry. I saw the door open and just blew in. 
Sadie. The wind's shifted; blow out. 

l^She turns away. 
Jerome. [Following her.] I want to see Mr. Rosenbaum. 
Sadie. You want to see an oculist. There's a sign out 
there — "No Vacancies for Actors." 

Jerome. I'm not an actor. I'm a business man. 
SADiE/What's a business man doing in a theatrical office? 
Who are you? 
Jerome. Jerome Belden. 

Sadie. Jerome Belden! That's a swell name, but it 
means nothing in my young life. Did you have an appoint- 
ment? 

Jerome. No, but I must see him. 

Sadie. [Sarcastically.] Sorry, but he isn't in. 

[She moves to the chair at the desk, 
Jerome. When will he be back? 
Sadie. When he returns, fair stranger. 
/^ Jerome. Don't you keep tabs on Mr. Rosenbaum? 
Sadee. I'm his stenographer, not his wifeA 



98 THE SHOW SHOP [act i 

Jerome. Oh! Has Miss Dean been here? 

Sadie. What Miss Dean? 

Jerome. Bettina Dean! 

Sadie. I'm not allowed to divulge office secrets. 

[She sits. 

Jerome. [Offering a bill.'] Here. 

Sadie. [Waving it aside.] Nothing doing. 

Jerome. [Smiling.] Oh, go on, run up to Huyler's. 

Sadie. [Taking it.] That's different. ' Mother told me I 
was never to take money from a strange gentleman. But, 
gee, none of the fellows I know have any. ) 

Jerome. [Sitting across from her.] Let's get down to 
cases. Have you ever seen Miss Dean? 

Sadie. Best-looking girl that has been in this office this 
season. 

Jerome. [Offering another bill.] Go on, get another box. 

Sadie. One box a day is my limit. 

Jerome. Look here, have you ever been in love? 

Sadie. [Sighing.] It's chronic with me. 

Jerome. That's the way I feel about Miss Dean. I want 
you to help me. 

Sadie. I'm no first aid to stage-door Johnnies. 

Jerome. Johnnies? I want to marry her. 

Sadie. What? My, how romantic! 

Jerome. I want her to marry me and give up the stage. 
Her mother can't see that at all. I heard last night that 
Mr. Rosenbaum is to see her today. If she gets this engage- 
ment it's all off. 

Sadie. Oh, I see. [Sympathetically.] Then you'll be 
parted. 

Jerome. Now you see what we're up against. 

Sadie. Isn't real life just like the stage? 

Jerome. Now come on; be a good fellow. Tell me, has 
she been here? 

Sadie. Not yet. Her appointment's for twelve today. 

Jerome. Good! [He rises and goes to the door.] That 
gives me a chance to see her before she gets here. Say, 



ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP 9» 

what's your favourite brand of flower? [Sadie smiles.] No? 
Well, I'm just going to smother you in violets. 

[He leaves hurriedly^ 
Sadie. [Wistftdly.] Some girls have all the luck. 

[Tompkins bursts in from his office. 
Tompkins. Where's that script? 

Sadie. I gave it to you once; if you're going to mislay it 
like that I'll put a bell on it. 

[She rises and gives the manuscript to him. 
Tompkins. What was it I wanted to ask you? 
Sadie. How should I know? I'm no mind-reader. 
Tompkins. Can the persiflage. Oh, yes, what theatre 
did Rosie get for rehearsal today? 

Sadie. You can have the stage downstairs from eleven 
till one. 

[Max Rosenbaum, a jovial embodiment of his race, 
enters briskly from the outer office. He carries a 
theatrical "route^* book. 
Sadie. Good morning, Mr. Rosenbaum. 
Rosenbaum. Hello, Sadie. [To Tompkins.] Hello, 
Sunshine. We've got to slam this show through. We open 
in two weeks. Sadie, has the printer sent the proof of that 
three-sheet? 

Sadie. It's right outside. 
Rosenbaum. Bring it in. 

[Sadie goes. 
Tompkins. Get a good route? 
Rosenbaum. A pippin! 

[He opens the book. 
Tompkins. [Sarcastically.'] Well, what burgs did you 
horn out of them? 

Rosenbaum. [Reading.] We open in Toronto, jump to 

Washington 

Tompkins. Jump! It's a leap! 

Rosenbaum. Yes, but if I can get the President to see 
the show. 
Tompkins. What have you got against Wilson? 



100 THE SHOW SHOP [act i 

RosENBAUM. I'll get him to endorse it. 

Tompkins. Why should he? 

RosENBAUM. Didn't I vote for him? 

Tompkins. Where do we scatter after Washington? 

RosENBAUM. Montreal, then Wilmington, Schenectady, 
Hartford, Rochester, New Haven, Troy and Punxatawney. 

Tompkins. Just hitting the high places. What are yoii 
doing, booking "The Wallop" with a ouija board? 

RosENBAUM. And a week in Philadelphia. 

Tompkins. This is a healthy show to wake up Phila- 
delphia. 

RosENBAUM. Say it will wake 'em up so hard, it'll give 
'em insomnia. 

[He places the route book on the desk. Sadie enters, 
carrying a roll of paper. 

Sadie. Here's the proof of that three-sheet. 

RosENBAUM. Here, Sadie, stand up. [Rosenbaum places 
a chair. Sadie stands on it and holds up the three-sheet. 
Rosenbaum reads.'] ''Max Rosenbaum politely proffers 
'The Wallop,' by Edgerton Porter, staged under the direc- 
tion of Max Rosenbaum and Wilbur Tompkins." 

Tompkins. [^Satirically.'] Couldn't you work your mon- 
icker in some place else? 

Rosenbaum. I might make it, "By Max Rosenbaum 

and " [Tompkins laughs.] Well, I gave the author 

the idea and a lot of the dialogue. 

Tompkins. Why pay him royalties? Why didn't you 
write it yourself? 

Rosenbaum. I haven't time to do the hack work. Sadie, 
tell the printer to put Max on one line and Rosenbaum on 
the other, and cut down the size of the author's name. 
Who is he, anyway? 

[Sadie, agreeing, goes. 
[Rosenbaum puts on his office-coat, then sits, reading 
his mail. 

Tompkins. Got a minute? 



ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP 101 

RosENBAUM. I haven*t a thing to do but listen to your 
troubles. What's on your mind? 

Tompkins. [Sitting.] Oh, nothing! First rehearsal at 
eleven, no last act, no scenery, no leading woman 

RosENBAUM. Gillette quit? 

Tompkins. [Sarcastically.'] She's ill. 

[He hands Rosenbaum a letter, 

RosENBAUM. [Reading it.] She'd had a better offer. 

Tompkins. It's like her to wait till the first rehearsal. 

RosENBAUM, I was afraid she'd throw us down. I've 
got just the girl. I told her that if anything happened to 
Gillette, I'd give her the first chance. I've an appointment 
with her today at twelve. 

[He presses the buzzer on his desk. 

Tompkins. [Handing Rosenbaum the Other letter.] 
Gilmore's quit, too. 

Rosenbaum. [Reading.] Well, you didn't like him. 
What kind of a type do you want? 

Tompkins. He ought to look like a clubman, wear his 
clothes well. He sings a song in the first act, dances a 
tango 

Rosenbaum. For sixty dollars a week, you want a cross 
between John Drew, Caruso and Vernon Castle. That's 
easy! [Sadie rmhes in.] Sadie, telephone Miss Dean, over 
to the St. Agnes: tell her not to wait until twelve o'clock, 
but to come right over. 

Sadie. [Disconsolately.] Right over? 

Rosenbaum. Yes, and make out a couple of contracts 
and leave the salary blank. 

[Sadie rushes out, 

Tompkins. Is it Bettina Dean? , 

Rosenbaum. Yes. 

Tompkins. Oh, Lord! 

Rosenbaum. What is it? 

Tompkins. Has a mother, hasn't she? 

Rosenbaum. Must have had a father, too. What's the 
matter with mother? 



102 THE SHOW SHOP [act i 

Tompkins. If Mamma Dean is going to be on this job, 
you won't want a stage manager for this show, you'll want 
a lion tamer. 

[He goes into his office. Sadie enters. 
Sadie. Mr. and Mrs. Brinkley calling. 
RosENBAUM. Show 'em in, show 'em in. Come in, Effie. 
Effie. [Entering.'] Well, Rosie? [Sadie goes. 

RosENBAUM. [Shaking hands.] Where's Johnny? 
Effie. Somewhere in the rear. That man's always leav- 
ing Buffalo just as I'm pulling into the Grand Central. 
Johnny. [Entering.] Who are you knocking now? 
Rosenbaum. [Shaking hands.] Well, well, Johnny! 
[Effie Brinkley is a plump, pretty, jolly woman of 
thirty-jive, her bleached hair, too youthful hat, and 
gown, indicating clearly the passe soubrette. Her 
husband, Johnny, a small, spare man in the fifties, 
has the gloomy manner and defected appearance that 
is so often characteristic of the comedian in private 
life. 
Rosenbaum. Here, sit down, sit down. 
Effie. Didn't I tell you he'd be the same old Rosie? 
Rosenbaum. Why not? 
Johnny. You're a great manager, now. 
Rosenbaum. Anybody who's had one success is a great 
manager. 

[Effie and Johnny sit. Rosenbaum gets a box of 
cigars. 
Effie. Johnny didn't want to come. 
Rosenbaum. [Reproachfully.] Johnny and you knew me 

when I 

Johnny. I never bank on that "I knew him when'^ thing. 

[He takes a cigar. 
Effie. The sight of you, Rosie, takes me back to 'Frisco. 
Johnny. Remember that joint we all lived in? 
Rosenbaum. The House of a Thousand Prunes. 

[They laugh. Rosenbaum sits at his desk. 



ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP lOS 

Effie. My, but five years makes a big difference in this 
business! 

RosENBAUM. Effie, you don't look a day older. 

Effie. It's my grand new liquid rouge. 

Johnny. And I just paid three dollars to regild her 
dome. 

Rosenbaum. How's the world using you? 

Johnny. We're still among the deserving poor. 

Rosenbaum. Where have you been keeping yourself? 

Effie. Hiding out in the alfalfa. 

Rosenbaum, You ought to be on Broadway. 

Johnny. We haven't a look-in. I haven't that sex appeal. 

Effie. Isn't it funny some New York manager doesn't 
take a violent fancy to Johnny? 

Johnny. H-ish, Effie, you make me feel like an aban- 
doned woman. 

Rosenbaum. What can I do for you? 

Effie. Well, a couple of jobs would come in handy. 

Johnny. Anything in this play you're putting on? 

Rosenbaum. I'U see, Johnny. [He looks at the "cast 
sheet" on his desk.] There's a bit in the last act. 

Johnny. One of those bad butlers? 

Rosenbaum. No, a chauffeur. 

Effie. Anything for me? We always go together. He's 
too darn attractive to leave lying around loose. 

Rosenbaum. There's a housekeeper. But, oh, you 
couldn't afford to play them. 

Effie The only thing an actor can't afford to be is idle. 

Johnny. We're eating on the last link of my gold watch 
and chain. What do they pay? 

Rosenbaum. Hold fast. 

Johnny. [Clutching his chair.'] Spring it! 

Rosenbaum. Seventy-five dollars for the two of them. 

Johnny. [Gasping.] Air! I want air! 

Rosenbaum. I tell you what: we'll make it a hundred. 

[He presses the buzzer. 

Effie. Now, Rosie, we don't want to work you. 



104 THE SHOW SHOP [act i 

RosENBAUM. What's money between friends? [Sadie 
btistles in.] Sadie, make out a contract for Effie and John 
Brinkley at One Hundred. [To Effie.] I'll mail it to you. 

Sadie. Mrs. Dean and Miss Dean are waiting to see you. 

RosENBAUM. When I ring, show them in. [Sadie goes.} 

Effie. Is Betty Dean to be in the company? 

RosENBAUM. I'm figuring on her for the lead. Do you 
know her? 

Effie. Know her? Many's the two weeks' notice her 
mother and I have read off the same call-board. Haven't 
seen her for years until she turned up this summer. 

RosENBAUM. Can the girl act? 

Effie. She should if she's anything like her mother, 
Matilda Kent. You've heard of her. Used to play leading 
business. 

Johnny. I thought that Betty was going to marry that 
young fellow who's been hanging around. 

Effie. Oh, no; he insists that Betty give up the stage. 
Matilda gave up a big career to marry. She won't let Betty 
make the same mistake. 

Johnny. Jerry is one of the idle rich, but he's a nice kid. 

Effie. Yes, but when you think of the late Mr. Dean, 
you can't blame Matilda for being something of a pessimist 
when it comes to love. She's devoted her life to Betty and 
she's determined to get her on Broadway. 

Johnny. Then no man, woman or child will stop her. 
She's some warrior, is Matilda. 

RosENBAUM. Johnny, you're throwing an awful scare into 
me. 

Effie. Don't mind Johnny. He always was an artist 
with a hammer. I like Matilda. You take Betty. She's a 
find for some manager. Where are the parts? 

RosENBAUM. Here. 

[Effie and Johnny rise. Rosenbaum hands a part 
of two ''sides" to Effie and another of three "sides'* 
to Johnny. They look at them, then at Rosen- 
baum, who smiles apologetically. 



ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP 105 

Effie. All of this? 

RosENBAUM. Oh, that's all right, Effie, you can build 
it up. 

Effie. Are you engaging me as an actress or an architect? 
Johnny. Cheer up, Effie; if anyone in the audience winks, 
they'll miss me. 

Effie. Where are we rehearsing? 

RosENBAUM. We're using the stage downstairs. You can 
go out that way. 

[He indicates the door at the right of the room, 
Effie. Good-bye, Rosie. 

\_She shakes hands and starts to go. 
Johnny. [Shaking hands.'] Rosie, you've been immense 
to us. 

RosENBAUM. Oh, that's all right. 
Effie. Come over to see us. 
RosENBAUM. Sure. 
Johnny. We'll have some prunes. 

[Johnny and Effie leave. Rosenbaum pushes the 
buzzer and then, sitting at the desk, assumes a man- 
agerial attitude, affecting to be very busy in order 
to i-mpress Mrs. Dean and Betty, who are shown 
in by S«*die. Mrs. Dean is a woman of fifty, shrewd, 
capable, dominated by one idea only, and that the 
furthering of her daughter's success on the stage; in 
a word, the typical "stage mother," the terror of 
managers and the despair of stage directors. Her 
nondescript bonnet and her shabby blue serge suit 
are in striking contrast to the exquisitely charming 
attire of her daughter, Bettina, a very pretty girl 
of twenty, who bows shyly to Rosenbaum, on whom 
her mother advances with an air of grim determina- 
tion. 
Rosenbaum. [Rising.'] Good morning, Miss Dean, Mrs. 
Dean. Sit down, please. [They sit.] Well, Miss Dean, 
are you at liberty to consider an offer? 
Mrs. Dean. [Interposing.] That depends. 



/ 



106 THE SHOW SHOP [act i 

RosENBAUM. What did you do last season? 

Betty. I played Mary Turner in '^Within the Law." 

Mrs. Dean. She was the original, in the number 13 com- 
pany. 

Betty. Oh, I hope it isn't another crook. I'm so sick 
of crime. 

Rosenbaum. There isn't a crook in the play. 

Mrs. Dean. Why, Mr. Rosenbaum, what a daring de- 
parture! 

Rosenbaum. Oh, I've got a novelty. 

Mrs. Dean. Don't tell me you've found a playwright 
with a new idea ! 

Rosenbaum. Oh, no; everything in it has been done a 
thousand times, but it's got a new twist and a good religious 
punch. 

Mrs. Dean. [Complacently.] Betty was wonderful in 
'The Christian.'-' 

Betty. What sort of a part is this? 

Rosenbaum. Pathos, comedy, emotion, the whole bunch 
of tricks. Do you think you can handle it? 

Mrs. Dean. Mere child's play for Betty? 

Betty. [Protesting.] Oh, Mother! 

Rosenbaum. [Drily.] You're not at all prejudiced. 

Mrs. Dean. [Taking press notices from her bag.] Mr. 
Rosenbaum, I don't ask you to take a mother's word for 
her daughter's ability. Listen: [Reading.^ ''The comedy 
of a Mrs. Fiske, the emotion of a Duse, the grace of a 
Pavlowa and the charm of an Ethel Barrymore." That's a 
slight tribute to Betty from the Oscaloosa Eagle. The Waco 
Argus says 

Betty. Oh, mother, Mr. Rosenbaum doesn't want to hear 
my press notices. 

[She rises, embarrassed, and moves away, 

Mrs. Dean. I'm only trying to prove to Mr. Rosenbaum 
that you can act circles around any of these Broadway 
favourites. 

Rosenbaum. Broadway doesn't want acting. 



ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP 107 

Mrs. Dean. [Beaming.] Mr. Rosenbaum, it's a pleasure 
to meet a manager who knows the New York public. 

[She rises and sits across the desk from Rosenbaum. 
Rosenbaum. [Whispering.'] Mrs. Dean, has she any per- 
sonality? 

Mrs. Dean. That, perhaps, is Betty's greatest charm. 
Rosenbaum. Has she any mannerisms? They like them, 
too. 
Mrs. Dean. She's full of mannerisms. 
Rosenbaum. [Shaking hands across the desk.] You're a 
woman after my own heart. What's her salary? 

Mrs. Dean. Two hundred dollars a week and her clothes. 
[Rosenbaum draws his hand away quickly as if stung. 
Betty, who has wandered to the other side of the 
room, turning quickly in surprise, meets the warning 
look of Mrs. Dean. 
Rosenbaum. For an unknown actress? 
Mrs. Dean. Unknown! I've never noticed your portrait 
in any Hall of Fame. 

Rosenbaum. I'll give you one hundred dollars. 
Mrs. Dean. [Rising.] Betty, wasn't that appointment 
with Mr. Belasco for today? 

Rosenbaum. [Laughing.] Belasco! Now we've both had 
our little joke. Let's talk business; one hundred dollars. 
Mrs. Dean. Quite a comedian, aren't you? 
Rosenbaum. I'm sorry. Maybe we can do business some 
other time. [Betty comes toward Mrs. Dean. Rosen- 
baum "sizes" her up.] Well, what do you say to one hun- 
dred and twenty-five? It's a great part. 

[Mrs. Dean's back is toward Rosie. She smiles tri- 
umphantly at Betty, then turns to Rosenbaum with 
gracious dignity. 
Mrs. Dean. I hope you get someone to play it. Come, 
Betty. 

[They start to go. 
Rosenbaum. [Following them.] One hundred and fifty, 
[Mrs. Dean turns] but you buy the clothes. 



108 THE SHOW SHOP [act i 

Mrs. Dean. [Suspiciously.'] Will we come into New 
York? 

RosENBAUM. Worse plays have. 

Mrs. Dean. [All smiling graciousness.'] Betty, dear, how 
would you like to work for Mr. Rosenbaum? 

Betty. [Indifferently.] I'd just as soon. 

Mrs. Dean. Well, as Betty feels so strongly about it, V\l 
take it. 

Rosenbaum. Before I engage her, I'd like to have her 
read a speech or two. 

Mrs. Dean. Certainly. 

Betty. Oh, I couldn't. 

Rosenbaum. I've got to get some idea of what you can 
do before I sign you up. 

Mrs. Dean. It's the nervousness of the artist. She in- 
herits it. I felt exactly the same way when I had to read 
the Portia speech for dear Mr. Booth. [With a gesture j 
reciting.] "The quality of mercy is not strained." 

Rosenbaum. [Stopping her.] It's your daughter I'm en- 
gaging. 

Mrs. Dean. [Roguishly.] Ah, yes, of course. [She 
giggles.] If you give Betty a moment to look it over. 

Rosenbaum. Sure. Take this speech. 

[He hands Mrs. Dean a part and goes into the wait- 
ing-room. Mrs. Dean turns joyously to Betty. 

Mrs. Dean. Oh, Betty, my darling, you're going to get 
your chance; you're going to be on Broadway. 

Betty. Maybe I can't play the part. 

Mrs. Dean. Matilda Kent's daughter can play anything! 

Betty. But for $150 he'll expect so much of me. 

Mrs. Dean. My dear, the more a manager pays you the 
better he thinks you are. [She looks over the part.] This 
speech isn't bad, but I'll see that it's rewritten to give you 
something to get your teeth in. 

[She hands the part to Betty, then, crossing to the 
desk, picks up first act of the manuscript of the play, 
Betty sits wearily at the left of the room. 



ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP 109 

Betty. What's it about? 

Mrs. Dean. Never mind what it's about. When you 
read it, just fix your thoughts on something sad. 

Betty. I'll think of poor, dear Jerry. 

Mrs. Dean. [Drily.] Yes. Now, about the clothes. 
[She looks at the first page of the manuscript.] Four acts! 
That means four dresses. 

Betty. How will we get them? 

Mrs. Dean. We've got to get them. I'll make them. 

Betty. [Rising, goes to her.] Oh, Mother, I'm so tired 
of seeing you work yourself to death for me. I'm ashamed 
of going around dressed like this and you so dingy. 

[She puts her head on her mother's shoulder. 

Mrs. Dean. [Embracing her.] You just wait, my dear, 
until you make your big success! Then watch mother 
flounder around in the lap of luxury. 

Betty. [Drawing away.] But we needn't wait. 1 could 
give you everything you wanted, if you'd let me marry 
Jerry. 

Mrs. Dean. Now, Betty, you've known Jerry only two 
months. We won't discuss that infatuation again. 

Betty. It's not infatuation. It's love. And he says I'm 
*'the love of his life." 

Mrs. Dean. That's a mossy old line. 

Betty. It sounds convincing the way he says it. 

[She moves away. 
Mrs. Dean. It sounded convincing when your father said 
it. [She goes to Betty.] Oh, Betty, I've nothing against 
Jerry, but when I was your age I was swept off my feet just 
like this. I don't want you to make my mistake. All I ask 
of you is to wait until you've had a taste of success; then, 
if you want to give it up, that will be a horse of another 
colour. Now, Where's that speech? [She takes the part.] 
See, Betty, tears in your voice there, look wistfully here, 
make your lips quiver. Trick it. 



110 THE SHOW SHOP [act r 

Betty. Oh, I'm sick of the tricks of the trade. I don't 
want to act. 

[She throws the part on the table, 
Mrs. Dean. [Reproachfully J] If you felt all this about 
the stage, why didn't you tell me? You knew I was only 
living for the day to see you take a curtain call on Broad- 
way, living only for that one thrill of mother's pride. I've 
never forced you to do anything you didn't want to do, and 
I won't now. You're free to make your choice. 

Betty. [Turning to her.'] I'm not free to make my 
choice. [She throws her arms around her mother.'] I love 
you. You know I do. No girl ever had a better mother. 
Do you think I want to disappoint you? But I love Jerry, 
too. Oh, what can I do? 

[She is at the point of tears, Mrs. Dean at her wits' 
end, when they are interrupted by the return of 
RosENBAUM with the contracts. 
RosENBAUM. Well, are you ready? Are you set? 
Mrs. Dean. [Bewildered.] Why — Mr„ Rosenbaum — 

I 

[Betty turns, sees the disappointment in her mother's 

eyes, then, sighing, picks up the part, takes a few 

steps toward Rosenbaum, who is seated at the desk, 

and begins to read, her mother watching anxiously 

the effect on him. 

Betty. [Reading.] "I've been lonely, too, Mr. Craig — 

lonelier than you, for you've had your son, and for years 

I've had no one who really belonged to me. I've tried to 

forget that loneliness with the thought that some day this 

wandering would be over, that some day I'd have a home, 

a husband, and now you want to take the man I love away 

from me." 

[The concluding lities are so applicable to her own 
situation that she is overcome and, throwing herself 
into the chair, buries her head in her arms and breaks 
into wild sobs. Mrs. Dean, understanding, goes to 
her quickly, but Rosenbaum, thinking it a bit of 



ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP 111 

acting, jumps to his feet excitedly and claps his 
hands in applause, 
RosENBAUM. Great! Great! You've got the sob stuff 
all right. Here's your contract; one hundred and fifty- 
dollars. 

[He holds out the pen to Betty, who continues to cry. 
Mrs. Dean is torn between her joy at the offer and 
her fear that Betty will refuse it. There is a pause. 
RosENBAUM looks at them bewildered. 
Aren't you going to sign it? 
Mrs. Dean. Why, I don't know. 
RosENBAUM. Here you are, Miss Dean. 

[Betty looks at her mother, who is watching her with 
tears in her eyes. Betty braces up, walks across to 
the chair, sits at the desk and takes a pen. Mrs. 
Dean gives a sigh of relief, goes to the table and 
gets the part. 
RosENBAUM. Hadn't you better read the contracts? 
Betty. [Signing them.'] They're all alike. If you want 
me you'll keep me. 

Mrs. Dean. Yes. It was a wise man who said that a 
theatrical contract was an evidence of mutual distrust. 

[Betty gives one contract to her mother, who looks it 
over, verifies it, then folds it and puts it in her bag, 
Betty. Where is the rehearsal? 
RosENBAUM. Downstairs — this way. 

[He opens the door that leads to the stage. Betty 

starts to go, but Mrs. Dean, victorious, resumes her 

aggressive mood. Tompkins comes in, unobserved-r 

Mrs. Dean. I suppose your stage manager is theVususal 

fiend in human form. 

RosENBAUM. [Turning, sees Tompkins.] Here he is. 
Mrs. Dean, Miss Dean, Mr. Tompkins. I think you'll find 
him amiable, 

Mrs. Dean. We shall see. 

[She looks at Tompkins coldly, then strides haughtily 



112 THE SHOW SHOP [act i 

to the door. Betty smiles shyly at them as she 
follows her mother out of the room, 
RosENBAUM. [^Excitedly.'] Well, what do you think about 
the little lady? 

Tompkins. I'm not worrying about the little lady; it's 
the old lady who's got me winging. 

[Sadie enters, wearing a large bunch of violets, 
Sadie. Here are the Brinkley contracts. 
Tompkins. Rosie, come out and take a flash at these 
scene models. 

RosENBAUM. What's wrong? 
Tompkins. Everything! 

[He slams into his office, 
RosENBAUM. Sadie, I'd rather have a thousand dollars 
than that man's disposition. 

\_He wearily follows Tompkins. Sadie places the 
Brinkley contracts on the desk and is about to 
return to the outer office when Jerome Belden 
rushes in. 
Jerry. I missed her ! Has she been here? 
Sadie. Yes. 

Jerry. Has Mr. Rosenbaum seen her? 
Sadie. Yes. 
Jerry. Where is she? 

Sadie. I think she's downstairs, rehearsing. 
Jerry. He's engaged her? 
Sadie. I'm afraid so. 

Jerry. Then I've got to see Mr. Rosenbaum. Where is 
he? 

Sadie. He's busy. 

Jerry. Very well. I'll wait. 

[Sadie goes. Jerry is sitting at the desk when Tomp- 
kins, coming in, sees him, stops and clutches Rosen- 
baum, who is following him. 
Tompkins. [In a hoarse whisper.'] Look! For the man 
about town. Pay him anything. He's it. Heaven has 
heard my prayer. 



ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP 113 

RosENBAUM. God's good to His chosen. 

[^He runs over past Jerry to his chair at the desk. 
Tompkins brings a chair and places it so as to block 
the way should Jerry try to leave. Jerry, seeing 
them, rises. 

Jerry. Mr. Rosenbaum? 

RosENBAUM. Yes, yes. [Jerry offers his card. Rosen- 
baum takes it.'] Well, young man, do you sing? 

Jerry. \^Bewildered.'] A little. Why? 

Rosenbaum. What's your voice? 

Jerry. [More bewildered.'] Why — I don't know. 

Tompkins. That's ail right. He can talk the song. 

Rosenbaum. Do you tango? 

Jerry. A little, but isn't it 

Tompkins. That's all right; he can fake it. How about 
the uniform? 

Rosenbaum. Stand up, please. 

Jerry. [Rising.] Really 

Rosenbaum. He can let down the pants. Can you act 
at all? 

Jerry. No. 

Tompkins. I'm glad you realise it. 

Rosenbaum. [Pushes buzzer.] All right, Mr. Belden. 
I'll give you seventy-five dollars a week. [Sadie enters. 
Rosenbaum gives her Jerry's card.] Here, Sadie, make 
out a contract for seventy-five dollars. Come back this 
afternoon. Take him, Tompkins. 

[He rises. Tompkins advances, seizes Jerry by the 
arm, and is starting to drag him toward the door to 
the stage when Jerry throws him off. 

Jerry. Wait a minute. Damn it, I tell you I'm not an 
actor. 

Tompkins. Didn't you come here about a part? 

Jerry. No. I came here to see him on business. 

Rosenbaum. Well, why didn't you say so? 

Jerry. I didn't get a chance. 

Tompkins. [Bitterly.] Everybody's hand's against me. 



114 THE SHOW SHOP [act i 

[To RosiE.] Send up to the Winter Garden and get me one 
of those men about town. 

[He goes into his office. Sadie bursts into laughter, 
which RosENBAUM resents. 

RosENBAUM. Sadie, no laughing in business hours. [Sadie 
goes.'] What do you want to see me about? 

Jerry. A matter of business. 

RosENBAUM. Are you an architect? 

Jerry. No. 

RosENBAUM. Someone's always trying to wish a New 
York theatre on me. What is it? 

Jerry. [Threateningly. ] You're coming between me and 
the woman I love. 

RosENBAUM. What? Who is she? 

Jerry. Bettina Dean. 

RosENBAUM. [Frightened.'] I've only seen the woman 
twice. 

Jerry. That was enough. 

RosENBAUM. I didn't say half a dozen words to her. 
[Jerry comes toward the desk. A chair is in his way; 
he throws it aside violently and leans over the desk, 
his doubled fist within an inch oj Rosenbaum's nose. 
RosENBAUM is terrified. 

Jerry. You're deliberately ruining her life's happiness. 

RosENBAUM. [Rising indignantly.] It isn't so. Her 
mother was in this office all the time. 

Jerry. Oh, I don't mean that. 

[He turns away. 

RosENBAUM. Well, what in blazes do you mean? Talk- 
ing of life's happiness and women you love like a — like a 
problem play. 

Jerry. You thought I meant that she was in love with 
you? [He laughs.] With you? [He laughs.] That's 
funny. She wouldn't look at you. 

RosENBAUM. Is that so! See these grey hairs? That's 
what I get for being fascinating to women. 



ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP 115 

[RosENBAUM sits at the right of the desk. Jerry 
brings a chair and sits across from him. 
Jerry. Betty 'phoned me this morning. Said you'd sent 
for her. Now what do you want to butt in like a fat- 
head 

RosENBAUM. One of us is nutty! 
Jerry. Betty says this means good-bye. 
RosENBAUM. [Rising.] Come on; let's you and me go 
up to Matteawan. 

Jerry. [Rising.] No, sit down, 

[He tries to push Rosenbaum into the chair. 
RosENBAUM. [Placing both hands on Jerry's arms.] 
Just a minute. Give me a chance to duck when you throw it. 
Jerry. Throw what? 
Rosenbaum. The bomb. 

Jerry. Sit down. I haven't any bomb. Let's talk 
money. 

[He sits. 
Rosenbaum. Money? He's got a lucid interval. Have 
you got money? 
Jerry. Lots of it. 

Rosenbaum. Excuse me a minute. [He rushes up to 
the door, opens it and calls.] Sadie! 
Sadie. [Outside.] What? 
Rosenbaum. Go to lunch. 
Sadie. [Outside.] All right! 

[Rosenbaum stands for an instant, looking at Jerry 
speculatively, then, smiling, brings a chair and places 
it beside him. 
Jerry. Now, I don't know anything about this theatrical 
business. 

Rosenbaum. Don't let that stop you from going into it. 
There's a mint in it for the right fellow. 
Jerry= I don't want to go into it. 
Rosenbaum. [Disappointed.] Oh! 

[He sits. 



116 THE SHOW SHOP , [act i 

Jerry. Now I want to fix up a deal with you. How 
much do you want? Write your own ticket. 

RosENBAUM. Come on; we'll begin all over again. [They 
rise. RosENBAUM takes Jerry's hand, shakes it effusively.] 
How do you do, Mr. Belden? 

Jerry. How do you do, Mr. Rosenbaum? Oh, sit down! 

[They sit. 

Rosenbaum. Now, there's you and Miss Dean and me 
and a deal and some money you want to force on me. 

Jerry. I want to marry Bettina Dean. I 

Rosenbaum. If you want to commit suicide, I'm not 
stopping you. 

Jerry. Why? Haven't you engaged her? 

Rosenbaum. Sure! She's signed the contract. 

Jerry. [Dejectedly.'] That settles it. 

Rosenbaum. [Surprised.] How? 

Jerry. We could have been married if you hadn't given 
her this engagement. I wanted her to give up the stage. 
Betty is willing, but Mrs. Dean won't hear of it until Betty's 
had her chance in New York. We've promised to wait. 
Now, what'll you take to fire her? 

Rosenbaum. What good will that do? 

Jerry. We can get married. Don't you see, no other 
New York manager wants her. 

Rosenbaum. My God, have I got a lemon and a lion 
tamer? » 

[He rises. 

Jerry. [Following him.] Oh, Betty can act, all right. 

Rosenbaum. Oh, can she? Well, you can get a wife 
anywhere, but where'U I get a leading woman? 

Jerry. You've never been crazy about a girl. 

Rosenbaum. Worse than that! I've married 'em — three 
of 'em. One was a leading woman, one was a heavy woman, 
and one was an ongenoo. She was the business woman, 
She gets alimony. 

Jerry. No use appealing to you for sympathy. You're 
soured on married life. 



ACT i] THE SHOW SHOP 117 

RosENBAUM. Not at all. You've got my sympathy. I 
know what it is. These ongenoos do get you. 

Jerry. This one has got me, you bet. 

[RosENBAUM and Jerry are standing side by side, lost 
in thought. Rosenbaum looks at him sympatheti- 
cally. 

RosENBAUM. Honest, if I'd known, I'd have been tempted 
to help you. [^He pauses as if struck with an idea.] Look 
here, have you ever acted? 

Jerry. I've fluffed around in college plays. 

Rosenbaum. Why don't you take this part of the man 
about town. I'll give you thirty dollars a week. 

Jerry. That won't be necessary. 

Rosenbaum. Well, come on and take it. 

Jerry. I couldn't act. 

Rosenbaum. Anybody can act. You'd be in the company 
with Miss Dean, see her every day, dance a tango with her 
every night. 

Jerry. I couldn't go on the stage. My friends would josh 
the life out of me. 

[Their argument is interrupted by the entrance of 
Mrs. Dean, followed by Betty. 

Mrs. Dean. Mr. Rosenbaum, that man Tompkins is 

simply impossible. He [^She sees Jerry.] What are 

you doing here? 

Jerry. I came to buy Betty's contract. 

Mrs. Dean. What? 

Jerry. I don't want her to go on the road. I hate travel- 
ling. 

Mrs. Dean. It's too bad about yoih It isn't necessary 
for you to travel. 

Jerry. Oh, yes, it is! I've got to see Betty. 

Mrs. Dean. Do you think I'd allow you to trapse around 
the country after my daughter? Travel on the same train, 
stop at the same hotel? Do you think I'm going to have 
Betty compromised by the attentions of an idle rich young 
man? 



118 THE SHOW SHOP [act i 

Jerry. Compromised? That's so. {To Rosenbaum.] 
Say, what do you do to go on the stage? 
Rosenbaum. Just go. 
Jerry. I'll take that part. 
Rosenbaum. [Quickly.] Twenty a week? 

[Jerry and Rosenbaum shake hands on the bargain, 
to the astonishment of Mrs. Dean and to the joy 
of Betty, who runs across to Jerry's outstretched 
arms, 

CURTAIN 



THE SECOND ACT 

The parlour of the Palace Hotel j Punxatawney — a large room 
with the dingy aspect and notable lack of comfort so 
characteristic of the "one-night stand" hotels in Amer- 
ica. At the right of the room is a large window with 
"stringy'^ lace ctcrtains over which are faded green rep 
hangings, at the left a fireplace and, towering above it, 
a black walnut mantel cluttered with garishly coloured 
bric-a-brac, and at the back and to the left a large 
opening, showing a hall and a flight of stairs. A round 
table with a spotted chenille cover stands in the centre 
of the room with chairs at the right, at the left and at 
the back of it, all of them of different periods, alike in 
that they are equally uncomfortable. A rocking-chair 
at the fireplace, a horsehair sofa at the right of the 
room, and, near the window, a table on which, in a 
glass case, is a moth-eaten stuffed bird, complete the 
furnishings of the room. The wall-paper in an intricate 
design of green and pmple "cabbages," and fly-specked 
engravings of historical incidents, preferably those de- 
picting death, enhance the general gloom which is in- 
tensified rather than mitigated by the light of a pon- 
derous chandelier. It is half-past eleven of an evening 
in October, six weeks having elapsed since the events 
of the preceding act. 

RosENBAUM, his hat pushed down over his forehead, a 
partially smoked cigar hanging from the corner of his 
mouth, his hands in his pockets, slouches in the chair 
at the right of the table, a picture of utter and aban- 
doned despondency. The Night Clerk, a tall, raw- 
boned Yankee with hair plastered in deep curves on 

119 



120 THE SHOW SHOP [act ii 

his brow, a heavy, drooping moustache, and dressed in 
the height of small-town fashion, ''featuring" a plaid 
waistcoat and a made-up four-in-hand tie in which is 
a cluster scarf-pin of imitation emeralds and diamonds, 
enters and approaches Rosenbaum, who turns and 
regards him gloomily. 

RosENBAUM. Well, Mr. Night Clerk? 

Night Clerk. Can't find a room. House is chock-a- 
block. Got two drummers sleepin' on the billiard-table and 
four old ladies in the bridal soot. 

RosENBAUM. Glad somebody's selling out. What's the 
attraction? 

Night Clerk. This is Old Home Week in Punxatawney. 

RosENBAUM. Any other hotels? 

Night Clerk. Everythin's full but the jail. Guess from 
the carryin's on tonight, it'll be full tomorrow. 

RosENBAUM. What about that drummer who is going out? 

Night Clerk. He ain't fit to go on the midnight. He 
took in a couple of acts of that show, "The Wallop," at the 
Opera House, and ever since he's been drinkin' somethin' 
terrible. 

RosENBAUM. Where is he? I'll join him. \He rises. 
Tompkins enters.'] Hello, Tompkins. 

Night Clerk. Will I fix a cot in here? 

Tompkins. [To Rosenbaum.] Can't you get a room? 

RosENBAUM. No, the hotel has a hit. 

Tompkins. Go over and take mine. 

RosENBAUM. I'll take a chance on the cot. 

[He sits. 

Tompkins. You'll never sleep. 

[He sits on the other side of the table. 

Rosenbaum. Yes, I will. I've got some plays to read. 

Night Clerk. Want any thin' else? 

Rosenbaum. Yes, a lot of poison. 

Night Clerk. [Smiling.] Rye or Scotch? 



ACT ii] THE SHOW SHOP 121 

RosENBAUM. Bring us a couple of slugs out of that drum- 
mer's bottle. 

[The Night Clerk goes. 

Tompkins. I didn't know you were in front tonight. 
When did you get here? 

RosENBAUM. 7:30. I went straight to the theatre. 

Tompkins. Well, what do you think of the show? 

RosENBAUM. I hate to tell you. 

Tompkins. As bad as that? 

RosENBAUM. Worse. 

Tompkins. Is it the performance? 

RosENBAUM. No. As the saying goes, "You put it over, 
but it lay there and it died." 

Tompkins. You saw it with a cold house. 

RosENBAUM. We've had three weeks of cold houses. 

Tompkins. You got my letter about young Eelden? 
You've got to let him go if you're going to take this show 
into New York. 

RosENBAUM. I'm taking it into New York — to Cain's 
storehouse. 

Tompkins. Then we blow up? 

RosENBAUM. Tomorrow night. 

Tompkins. [Laughing bitterly.'] I picked it for a flivver. 

RosENBAUM. You were a good picker. 

Tompkins. Well, why did you produce it? 

RosENBAUM. I wanted to do something for art. 

Tompkins. Seems to me the minute you managers collect / 
a little loose change providing entertainment for the tired 
business man, you go bugged producing something for the 
highbrows. 

RosENBAUM. I'm cured. A small cast and one set of 
scenery: that's going to be my idea of art. 

Tompkins. [Picking up the manuscript.'] Is this it? 
[Reading the title.] "A Drop of Poison!" 

RosENBAUM. No, that's worse than "The Wallop." Give 
it to me. I'll bury it. 

[He rises, takes the manuscript and puts in his travel^ 



122 THE SHOW SHOP [act ii 

ling bag ii>hich is on the sofa. The Night Clerk 
returns with a tray containing the drinks. 

Night Clerk. Here you are, gentlemen. [Rosenbaum 
pays for the drinks.'] Thank you, Mr. Tompkins, for them 
passes. "The Wallop" is some showl 

Rosenbaum. Did you like it? 

[He sits again. 

Night Clerk. Immense. 

Rosenbaum. Tompkins, give it to him. 

Tompkins. No; he may have a wife and family. 

Night Clerk. Of course, I don't set up to know much 
about shows. But you take it from me 

Rosenbaum. He wants to give it back to us. 

[Tompkins and Rosie drink. 

Night Clerk. Maybe you don't want me to say what 
I think? 

Tompkins. What you think is going to make a whole 
lot of difference to us. 

Night Clerk. Your first act's punk. 

Rosenbaum. Tompkins, make a note of that. 

Night Clerk. And I don't like your leadin' man. 

Tompkins. Shake, brother, shake! 

\^He rises, grabs the Night Clerk's hand and shakes 
it, then sits again. 

Night Clerk. The audience would a liked it better if 
there was more to laugh at. 

Rosenbaum. Bring 'em around and let 'em look at me. 

Night Clerk. There's a lot of other things I can't think 
of just this minute. 

Tompkins. [Imploringly.] Try! Won't you? 

Rosenbaum. But don't give yourself a headache. 

Night Clerk. Oh, pshaw, thinkin' don't bother me. I'm 
used to it. Always help all the managers fix up their shows. 

Rosenbaum. Tompkins, he's a lovely fellow. If it 
won't interrupt you, bring up some sandwiches and some 
beer. 

Night Clerk. How many of you^s going to celebrate? 



ACT ii] THE SHOW SHOP 123 

RosENBAUM. There'll be six pallbearers. 
Night Clerk. Ain't you show folks the kidders? 

[Chuckling, he goes, 
Tompkins. Going to break the sad blow to the bunch 
tonight? 

RosENBAUM. Yes. I left word for Effie and Johnnie, 
the Deans and young Belden to see me here. I didn't want 
to break it to Mrs. Dean alone. 

Tompkins. Well, Mathilda's going to emit a yell that 
would make the roar of a Bengal tiger sound like the voice 
of a cooing dove. 

RosENBAUM. If she assaults me I have witnesses. 
You'll join us? 

Tompkins. [Rising.'] I've got to go back to the show 
shop. See that the scenery gets out. Want me to tell the 
working staff? 

RosENBAUM. Yes. I'll tell the rest of the company. 
Where'll I find them? 

[He rises, 
Tompkins. Across the street at the cheap hotel. 

[He goes. Rosenbaum is following him dejectedly 
when Betty appears in street attire. She shakes 
hands with Rosenbaum. 
Betty. Oh, how do you do, Mr. Rosenbaum. Do you 
want to see me? 

Rosenbaum. Yes. Where is your mother? 
Betty. She stopped at the telegraph office. 
Rosenbaum. Will you wait here? I'll be right back. 
Betty. Certainly. 

[^4^ she moves towards the fireplace, Jerry enters 
breezily. 
Jerry. Well, Rosie, how do you feel? 
Rosenbaum. Like someone pushed me off the Singer 
Building. 

[He goes. Jerry, laughing, follows him to the door, 
looks out to see that no one is coming, then rushes to 
Betty, grabs her and kisses her. 



124 THE SHOW SHOP [act ii 

Betty. Jerry! 

Jerry. It's the first chance I've had in six weeks, and I 
may not get another, so I'll take a few more now before 
mother gets on the job again. 

[He kisses her again. 

Betty. Poor old Jerry! To be near his Betty did he 
have to be an actor? 

Jerry. This consoles me. 

[He tries to kiss her again. Betty evades him and 
moves away. 

Betty. You won't have to be one much longer 

Jerry. [Following her.'] What do you mean? 

Betty. We're going to close. 

Jerry. Close what? 

Betty. The play's a failure. 

Jerry. Who told you? 

Betty. No one. I know the symptoms. Mother will 
be furious. 

Jerry. Going back to New York! Great! Come on 
now, hip-hip 

Betty. I haven't a "hip-hip" in me. Oh, I wish this 
beastly play had gone to New York and failed, satisfied 
mother and set me free. 

Jerry. Free! Won't you marry me now? 

Betty. No, I can't go back on my promise to mother. 
I said I'd wait until I had my chance on Broadway. It 
will be a case of look for another engagement. 

[She sinks wearily onto the sofa. 

Jerry. What! Me have to act again? 

[He falls into a chair, 

Betty. I'm afraid you wouldn't get the chance, dear. 
Not if they saw you. 

Jerry. Have I made this tour of darkest America, en- 
dured all the horrors of those one-night-stands, no decent 
beds, food that's a crime, all that for nothing? 

Betty. I didn't ask you to do it. 

Jerry. You might have told me I wasn^t going to have 



ACT ii] THE SHOW SHOP 125 

a minute alone with you. Can't sit in the same seat with 
you on the train, can't go for a walk, can't sit at the same 
table, can't even carry your grip for fear of compromis- 
ing you. 

Betty. I'm not responsible for the etiquette of this pro- 
fession. 

Jerry. Can't even see you at the theatre. The only 
minute I get with you is dancing that dam tango, and they 
won't let us take an encore on that. 

Betty. I'm not running the performance. 

Jerry. Have to stand around and see that goggle-eyed 
leading man mauling you all over the stage. [He rises and 
goes to her.] One thing I'll do before we close. I'll take 
a punch at him. 

Betty. And how do you think I like it? 

Jerry. Well, you act as though you enjoyed it. 

[He walks away, sulkily. 

Betty. [Rising.'] Enjoy it! I've had a lovely time on 
this trip. It's so comfortable to play a love scene with 
you in one entrance glaring at me if I play it well and 
mother in another entrance glaring at me if I don't. 

Jerry. I suppose I am a little jealous. 

Betty. A little? You're full of it. 

Jerry. [Going to her.] Don't you understand? Betty, 
don't you love me? 

Betty. I don't love anybody, I just want to get mar- 
ried. 

[She turns to Jerry, and puts her head on his shoulder, 

Jerry. [Putting his arms around her.] Come on, let's 
find a minister. 

Betty. I've just told you I've got to wait till mother 
gets me on Broadway. [Disgustedly.] Broadway! When 
all I want is a farm and chickens and a little calf. 

Jerry. I've only twenty thousand dollars a year, Betty, 
but I guess we could run a little farm on that. If you 
ever do give up the stage, you won't want to act again. 

Betty. Every wife has to act a little. 



126 THE SHOW SHOP [act ii 

[She kisses him. The Night Clerk enters with a 
tray on which are b%er and sandwiches. They jump 
apart. 
Jerry. {Embarrassed.'] We — ^we were rehearsing. 
Night Clerk. Oh, don't mind me. I ain't no scandal 
monger. 

[He puts the tray on the table, 
[Enter Effie and Johnny in rather dingy attire. 
Effie. Hello children. Where's Mr. Rosenbaum? 
Night Clerk. He said not to wait. You can wade 
right in. 

[He goes. 
Jerry. Shall I open these now? 

[He indicates the bottles. 
Johnny. I'll never have a worse thirst. 

[Jerry sits at the right of the table opening a bottle 
of beer; Betty takes a sandwich and sits on the 
couch. Effie sits at the left of the table and begins 
to munch sandwiches. Johnny goes over to the fire- 
place. 
Effie. Why the feast? 

Johnny. I hate to be the one to spread the pall over 
this merry gathering, but it looks to me like a two weeks* 
notice in disguise. 
Betty. Me too! 

Jerry. What makes you think we close? 
Johnny. My boy, a bad play playing to worse busi- 
ness, and a sudden visit from the manager — ^well, when 
you've been in the business as long as I have, you'll be able 
to put that two and two together without straining your 
psychic powers. 

Effie. I've been expecting it. We opened on Friday 
the 13 th. 
Johnny. There was a peacock on that garden drop. 
Betty. I always hated that business of my opening an 
umbrella. 
Jerry. I didn't know that actors were superstitious. 



ACT ii] THE SHOW SHOP 127 

Betty. We're not. 

Johnny. Somebody's been stringing you. 

Jerry. Well, thank the Lord, no more dressing in the 
flies for me. 

Johnny. It's so long since I dressed anywhere else. 
That's one of the beauties of this profession, the older you 
grow the more stairs you climb. 

Jerry. Cheer up, Johnny, we only live once, 

Johnny. And if you're an actor you only live half the 
time. 

Effie. [Tearfully.] Oh, what will we do? 

Johnny. Oh, why worry, when you can be buried for 
twenty-five dollars? 

Effie. Oh^ Johnny, don't. 

[She begins to cry. Johnny goes to her quickly and 
puts his arms about her. 

Johnny. Oh, Effie, old girl 

Effie. What would happen to me, if anything happened 
to you? Life's hard enough together. Oh, curse this 
business! 

Jerry. It's a dog's life. 

Betty. [Rising and going to Jerry.] Oh, no, all a dog 
has to-do is lie around and get fat. We don't dare do 
that. 

Johnny. Got to begin all over again. The heart-break- 
ing hunt for a job! If you get it, rehearse for weeks with 
nothing coming in, and your last bit of savings going out 
for wardrobe. Then the suspense! Will it go? Will it 
fail? It's tough enough when you're young, but it's a hell 
of a trade when you're old. 

Betty. [Tenderly.] Not when you grow old together, 
Johnny. That's all we ask, isn't it, Jerry? 

[She puts her hand on Jerry's shoulder; Jerry pats 
it and kisses it. 

Johnny. Jerry's different. I had no right to marry 
Effie when I couldn't support her. 



128 THE SHOW SHOP [act ii 

Effie. a lot you had to say about it. I saw that you 
were my happiness and I grabbed you. 

Johnny. [Very tenderly.] You've never regretted it, 
have you? 

Effie. Sometimes when you row about the breakfast 
coffee. 

Johnny. Stung! 

[He sits at the back of the table. 

Jerry. Have some beer, Mrs. Brinkley? 

Effie. What do you think, Johnny? You know how I 
take on weight. 

Johnny. [Handing her a glass of beer.] Aw, go on! 
The more there is of you, the more I love you. 

Effie. Johnny, I think you're the nicest husband in the 
world. 

Johnny. Effie, if I told you what I think about you it 
would sound like Romeo at his frothiest. 

Effie. [Giggling.'] Aren't we a couple of old sillies? 

Betty. We think you're a couple of old dears, don't we, 
Jerry? 

Jerry. Are you going to stick to me like that? 

Betty. If you're as nice as Johnny. 

Effie. Hush, Betty, he'll get so puffed up, there'll be 
no living with him. 

[Betty laughs and moves to the couch. Jerry fol- 
lows her. RosENBAUM appears. Johnny, Effie 
and Betty knowing what is coming, settle them- 
selves for the blow which Rosenbaum hates to de- 
liver. He hesitates, coughs and then begins. 

Rosenbaum. Well, children, in this business, we've got 
to be good gamblers. This is a very painful moment. 
I 

Jerry. Oh, they all know you're going to close. 

Betty. Oh, Jerry, let him read his speech. 

Rosenbaum. What's the use? He stole my climax. 
I'm sorry, people. You've all worked hard to help me put 
"The Wallop" over. If the show had a ghost of a chance, 



ACT ii] THE SHOW SHOP 129 

I'd stick. But youVe seen the business. After I give you 
two weeks' salary and get you home, I won't be able to 
pay the first installment on a two cent stamp. 

Betty. Oh, Mr. Rosenbaum, I'm so sorry. 

[She goes to him and gives him her hand. 

Jerry. Me too. If I can help you out, old man. 

Effie. Oh, Rosie, are you broke? 

Rosenbaum. Oh, that's all right. I didn't have money 
long enough to get intimate with it. 

[He sits at the right of the table. Betty returns to 
the couch beside Jerry. 

Jerry. It always struck me that the only wallop in the 
show was in the title. 

Effie. Of course, if there had been more of Johnny and 
me in the piece. But our scene in the last act came too 
late to save it. 

Johnny. Yes, and when I showed the author where he 
could slide us in here and there, he handed me a lot of 
junk about "construction." The poor nut! 

Effie. [Indignantly.'] Yes, and instead of thanking you, 
you'd have thought Johnny was trying to tamper with his 
deathless English prose. 

Rosenbaum. He doesn't know that plays may be writ- 
ten but that successes are rewritten. 

Johnny. Yes, by actors. 

[Rosie turns and looks at Johnny. Effie nods an 
assent to the statement. 

Betty. He was awfully nice to me. 

Jerry. Why not? You were the best thing in his play. 

Effie. Rosie, what'U you do? 

Rosenbaum. I guess I'll tackle the ten cent movies. If 
I can't be the Erlanger of the drama, I'll be the Wool- 
worth. 

Johnny. We might try the movies, Effie. 

Effie. Why, Johnny, I can't fall off the Brooklyn 
Bridge at my time of life, at least, not gracefully. 



IS^ THE SHOW SHOP [act n 

[Mrs. Dean appears, unobserved, in the door dressed 
as in the previous act. 
Mrs. Dean. Good evening, everybody. There you are, 
Betty. It^s bedtime for my little girl. 

[Jerry, at the sound of her voice, jumps quickly front 
the sofa where he has been seated, his arm around 
Betty, who rises in confusion and goes to Mrs. 
Dean. The others are surprised at Mrs. Dean's 
cheerful mood. 
Effie. [Whispering across the table to Rosenbaum.] 
Have you broken the news to Mathilda? 

[Rosenbaum shakes his head. 
Johnny. {Whispering.'] Go on. Get it over. 

[Rosenbaum rises, fearing the task ahead of him, and 
walks slowly towards the fireplace. Johnny and 
Effie wait for the explosion from Mrs. Dean. 
Rosenbaum. Oh, Mrs, Dean. 
Mrs. Dean. [Joining him.] Yes, Mr. Rosenbaum. 
Rosenbaum. [Beginning his set speech.'] In this busi- 
ness we've got to be good gamblers. This is a very pain- 
ful moment. I 

Mrs. Dean. Yes, we close. 
Rosenbaum. [Greatly surprised.] You knew? 
Mrs. Dean. [Very pleasantly.] Yes. It's too bad. 
We've been such a happy family. 
Johnny. Yes, just like a Zoo. 

[Mrs. Dean glares over her shoulder at Johnny. 
Effie reproves Johnny with a glance. 
Rosenbaum. I've fallen down on my promise to take 
your daughter into New York. 

Mrs. Dean. Oh, I understand perfectly, Mr. Rosenbaum. 
It's hard enough to get New Yorkers in to see a good play. 
You can't drive them in to a bad one, unless you send a 
taxicab with every pass. 

[Rosenbaum, bewildered, looks at Johnny and Effie 
who are equally taken aback, then sits again at the 
right of the table. 



ACT n] THE SHOW SHOP ISl 

Betty. [Going to her mother,'] Oh, mother, I thought 
you'd be annoyed. 

Mrs. Dean. Oh, my dear, to have been associated with 
a failure on Broadway, would have been death to your 
career. 
Jerry. What do you mean? 

Mrs. Dean. You'll all be so glad to know that Betty's 
future is assured. 

Jerry. Do you mean ? 

Betty. Oh, mother, am I going to be married? 
Mrs. Dean. [Firmly.'] No. [Beamingly.] You're go- 
ing with Belasco. 
Jerry. Belasco! 
Betty. What! 

Mrs. Dean. Yes, I just sent a wire accepting a part in 
a new production. To be sure it's only a bit, but better 
a bit on Broadway than a great part in Punxatawney, 
Good night everybody. Come, Betty. 

[She and Betty start to go. Jerry follows them to 
the door. 
Jerry. Betty! 

[Mrs. Dean glares at Jerry and leads Betty away. 

Jerry moves slowly down to the fireplace where he 

stands the picture of dejection. The others look at 

him in sympathy. 

Johnny. Isn't she the fox? She felt this coming and 

laid her pipes. 

Effie. [Rising.] She's right to think of her girl. I wish 
she would think a little more of you, boy. [She goes to 
Jerry and puts her hand in his.] Good night. Don't 
worry. God bless you. I've handed that line across so 
often, but this time no stage manager could say I didn't 
have real feeling back of it. 

Jerry. And it never landed harder. 

[Moved, he puts his arm around Effie, who is 
crying, and takes her to the door. Johnny joins 



132 THE SHOW SHOP [act ii 

them and puts his arm about Jerry's shoulder in a 
sympathetic hug. 

Johnny. Good night, son. Take my advice, go out and 
put some vine leaves in your hair. 

[They go, leaving Jerry standing at the door lost in 
thought. He is seized suddenly by an idea and runs 
quickly to Rosenbaum who is seated, a prey to 
despondency. 

Jerry. Rosie, do you want to make some easy money? 

Rosenbaum. [Startled.'] Where is it? Who's got it? 

Jerry. I have. I want you to put on a play for me. 

Rosenbaum. Oh, no, Jerry. I'm too fond of you. 

Jerry. Then you'll do this for me. I'll guarantee all 
expenses. 

Rosenbaum. Pinch met Pinch me! 

Jerry. You get the play and star Betty on Broadway. 
Are you on? 

Rosenbaum. [Turning to Jerry.] Wait a minute. Isn't 
there a kick in this? 

Jerry. No, and what's more, I'll give you $S,ooo cash 
for yourself if 

Rosenbaum. [Disgustedly.] If! Always there's an 
"if." Sometimes I think it's my middle name. 

Jerry. Five thousand dollars, Rosie, if you'll guarantee 
me a — sure fire failure! 

Rosenbaum. He's got his brain turned. 

Jerry. Never saner in my life. Didn't you hear Betty's 
mother say a moment ago that to be associated with a fail- 
ure would be death to Betty's career? Well, all I want to 
do is to cover up that career with a couple of "Rests in 
Peace" and a nice big "Gates Ajar." 

Rosenbaum. I don't get you. 

[He rises, dazed, and goes to Jerry. 

Jerry. Betty's promised her mother that she won't marry 
me until she's had a chance on Broadway. We furnish 
the chance. A failure for mother would mean wedding 
bells for Betty and me. Now do you get me? 



ACT ii] THE SHOW SHOP 13S 

RosENBAUM. [Eagerly.] If you want a failure, why not 
buy "The Wallop"? 

Jerry. Oh, no, mother's on to that, and Betty's part's 
not big enough. Come on, we've got to cinch this thing 
tonight. I want quick action. 
RosENBAUM. You got the play? 

Jerry. No. You've got to get it. You've got to work 
for that money. 

RosENBAUM. I don't believe I'd know how to pick a fail- 
ure. 

Jerry. [Laughing.] Kind regards to "The Wallop." 
RosENBAUM. Suppose Mrs. Dean won't fall for it? 
Jerry. All you got to do with Mrs. Dean is to murmur 
the word "Star." I'll send for her. 

[He presses the push button, 
RosENBAUM. But we haven't a play. 
Jerry. None kicking around any place? 
RosENBAUM. [Recollecting.] Sure, I got a grip full of 
'em. 

[He gets his travelling bag, places it on a chair beside 
the table, opens it and begins to lay the manuscripts 
on the table. The Night Clerk enters. 
Jerry. Will you go up to Mrs. Dean's room and tell her 
Mr. Rosenbaum would like to see her here immediately? 
Night Clerk. [Demurring.] It's pretty late. 
Jerry. That won't make any difference. 

[He gives him a liberal tip. 
Night Clerk. Well, if you insist. I hope being actresses 
they won't get the idea that I'm tryin' to make improper 
advances. 

Jerry. Oh, you get out! [He goes.] Here, Rosie, 
spread 'em out. Now pick one! 
Rosenbaum. What? 
Jerry. Here, I'll show you. Go it blind. 

[He stands at the back of the table on which the manu- 
scripts are now spread out. He puts his hand over 
his eyes. Rosenbaum looks at him and chuckles. 



134 THE SHOW SHOP [act ii 

RosENBAUM. By Jiminy, it's as good a way to pick 'em 
as any. 

Jerry. Eeny, meeny, miney, mo. [On "mo" he grabs 
a manuscript.'] There you are. [He picks it up and reads 
the title "A Drop of Poison." Rosie roars with laughter. 
Jerry is bewildered.] What is it? Is it a comedy? 
RosENBAUM It's a freak. 
Jerry. Have you read it? 

RosENBAUM. [Taking it.] Some of it. Listen to the 
note in red ink. [Reads.] "NOTE: The last act— [/j6 
roars] the last act takes place — [he roars again] the last 
act takes place eight years before the opening of the 
FIRST." 
Jerry. It listens like a sure fire flivver. 

[Jerry and Rosenbaum are hanging on to each other 
weak from laughter when the Night Clerk returns. 
Night Clerk. Mrs. Dean will be right down. 
Jerry. [To Rosie.] "A Drop of Poison." 

[They both laugh. 
Night Clerk. She asks you to excuse her kimony. 
Jerry. Kimony I 

[They howl with laughter again, to the intense an- 
noyance of the Night Clerk, who goes. 
Jerry. I'll get out and let you handle it. 
Rosenbaum. All right. When I ring you'll know it's 
settled. I'll set the stage. 

Jerry. And say, I'm not in on this. 
Rosenbaum. Don't you want to be in the company? 
Jerry. I should say not. I'm fed up on this acting 
game. "A Drop of Poison." 

[He laughs and disappears. 
[Rosenbaum has hastily put the other manuscripts in 
the bag which he conceals underneath the table. 
Then sitting, he takes out his pocket handkerchief 
and opening the script of "A Drop of Poison" at ran," 
dom, waits for the arrival of Mrs. Dean. Pres- 
ently there is a knock. Rosenbaum is convulsed 



ACT ii] THE SHOW SHOP 135 

with silent laughter, as he pretends to be engrossed 
in the play. Mrs. Dean knocks again. Then she 
enters, attired in a faded pink kimono, Rosenbaum 
watching her out of the corner of his eye. 

Rosenbaum. [^Sobbing.'] Oh, what a great play! My, 
what a pathetic climax! 

\_He sobs again, covers his eyes with his handkerchief. 
Mrs. Dean coughs. Rosenbaum wipes his eyes, crosses 
to Mrs. Dean, takes her by the arm, leads her to a chair, 
then stands beside her. Mrs. Dean is surprised by his 
actions. Rosenbaum smiles at her ingratiatingly. '\ My 
dear Mrs. Dean, I have a proposition to make you. 

Mrs. Dean. [Bounding out of her chair. 1 Sir! 

Rosenbaum. Oh, this is strictly business. 

Mrs. Dean. Then, come to the point. I don't care to 
have any prying eyes see me in a man's room at the dead 
of night in my dishabilly. 

Rosenbaum. I have to see you. I just found the most 
marvellous play for your daughter, the most wonderful 
part. 

Mrs. Dean. [Sneeringly.] Pardon me, Mr. Rosenbaum, 
but you wouldn't recognise a wonderful part if it came up 
and kissed you. 

Rosenbaum. I'll give Betty anything she wants. I'll 
take her to New York. I've got the backing. 

Mrs. Dean. I listened to your siren song once, and it 
landed me in Punxatawney. Good evening. 

[She starts to go. 

Rosenbaum. Too bad. I was going to star Bettina. 

[He sits in the rocking chair. 

Mrs. Dean. [Stopping.] What did you say, Mr. Rosen- 
baum? [Rosenbaum laughs quietly. Mrs. Dean comes 
to him.] What did you say, Mr. Rosenbaum? 

Rosenbaum. Oh, excuse me. I was just thinking how 
Bettina Dean in red and yellow electric lights would look. 

Mrs. Dean. [Wist fully o] In one row across the front 
of a Broadway theatre. 



1S6 THE SHOW SHOP [act ir 

RosENBAUM. Two rows would be more imposing. 

Mrs. Dean. Perhaps it would. [She sits at the left of 
the table.'] I thought you were broke? 

RosENBAUM. [Rising.'] I can always get backing for a 
good play. I'll give you a guarantee. I'm only producing 
this to take Betty into New York. 

Mrs. Dean. What is the play? Of course, there's no use 
my considering it unless Betty has all the situations and all 
the climaxes. If anybody else in the play has anything ta 
J do, why be a star? 

RosENBAUM. We'll make it a monologue. 

Mrs. Dean. [Picking up the manuscript from the table.} 
Is this it? 

RosENBAUM. Hadn't you better wait until I have it re- 
vised according to your ideas? 

[He tries to take the manuscript. 

Mrs. Dean. I'll attend to that. Is the author amenable? 

RosENBAUM. I think he's an American. 

Mrs. Dean. What is the part? 

RosENBAUM. [Puzzled, then taking a chance.] An un- 
happy wife. 

Mrs. Dean. Haven't they been done? 

RosENBAUM. I never heard of one being done. 

[Mrs. Dean laughs, but her laugh dies as she sees the 
title. 

Mrs. Dean. "A Drop of Poison!" 

RosENBAUM. Don't you like it? 

Mrs. Dean. Impossible! 

RosENBAUM. Change it. Change it. 

[He sits at the right of the table. 

Mrs. Dean. The title should include the name of the star 
part. [She looks at the manuscript.] Dora Chapman. Let 
me see. Of course, being the heroine, she's in trouble. 
IVe got it. "Dora's Dilemma." 

RosENBAUM. What's a Dilemma? 

Mrs. Dean. Another name for trouble. 

RosENBAUM. That's a great title for any play. 



ACT ii] THE SHOW SHOP 137 

Mrs. Dean. Is Mr. Tompkins going to stage this piece? 

RosENBAUM. Under your direction. You might as well 
do it first as last. 

Mrs. Dean. We'll do it together. 

RosENBAUM. Then the deal's on? 

[He rises, reaches his hand to her across the table. 

Mrs. Dean. Wait a minute. [Rosie sits again.'] Of 
course, Betty will have the usual privilege of a woman star, 
no actress younger than herself in the company? 

RosENBAUM. Certainly. 

Mrs. Dean. No member of the supporting cast to be 
mentioned in the newspapers. Of course, if one of them 
should die, we couldn't prevent a slight obituary. 

RosENBAUM. Anything else? 

Mrs. Dean. Yes, the salary. 

RosENBAUM. I'm listening. 

Mrs. Dean. Two hundred dollars a week, all dresses 
and 51% of the profits, the real profits. I'll look over the 
accounts myself, and remember, Mr. Rosenbaum, I won a 
prize at school for arithmetic. 

Rosenbaum. My, what a head for a Christian! 

[Mrs Dean rises y smiling effusively, and shakes hands 
with Rosenbaum, who rises. 

Mrs. Dean. How fortunate for you that we've met — 
we'll make a lot of money for you. 

Rosenbaum. [Sapiently.] You're going to make $5,000 
for me, anjrway. 
[Betty enters. 

Betty. Mother, what are you doing? Aren't you ever 
coming to bed? 

Mrs. Dean. [Rushing to her.] Oh, Betty dear, the most 
wonderful news! You're going to be a star! 

Betty. [Indifferently.] Am I? 

Mrs. Dean. But, darling, aren't you excited? 

Betty. No, I'm sleepy. Who's going to star me? 

[She sits in the rocking-chair, 

Rosenbaum. Me. 



1S8 THE SHOW SHOP [act ii 

Betty. [Rocking.] I thought we were going with Be- 
lasco? 

Mrs. Dean. When you can go with Mr. Rosenbaum? 
The idea! 

[Rosenbaum smiles conceitedly. 
Betty. [Yawning as she rocks.] It's all the same to me. 
Mrs. Dean. You're going to have everything you want. 
Betty. [Hiding a smile.] Oh, I am? Will I have my 
say-so about who's in the company? 
Rosenbaum. Certainly. Certainly. 
Betty. Then I want Effie and Johnnie. 

[She rocks. Mrs. Dean looks at Rosie, who nods 
assent. 
Mrs. Dean. If there's a place for them. 
Betty. [Firmly.'] I'll make one. And I want Jerry. 
[Mrs. Dean, dismayed, turns to Rosie, who signifies 
consent. 
Mrs. Dean. Of course, if there's a very small bit. 
Betty. No bits. He's going to play the lead. 

[Mrs. Dean and Rosie are paralysed. 
Mrs. Dean. [Recovering.] Do you want to handicap 
your career? 

Betty. If any other man makes love to me on the stage 
it handicaps me in real life with Jerry. 

Mrs. Dean. Betty, listen to reason. [To Rosenbaum.] 
This isn't like my little girl. 

Betty. Your little girl's enough like you to put her foot 
down and put it down hard. You want me to star and I 
want to marry Jerry. He is either going to be my leading 
man or my husband. You can take your choice. 

[She rocks. 
Rosenbaum. Mrs. Dean, come here a moment. 

[Mrs. Dean goes to him. He takes her aside. 
Betty. You two needn't try to put up any schemes. 
Rosenbaum. [Whispering.] Why not let him play it? 
Mrs. Dean. [Whispering.] Have you gone crazy, too? 
Rosenbaum. Don't you see, if she has a good leading 



ACT ii] THE SHOW SHOP 139 

man, it won't be such a walk-over for her. The worse he 
is, the more she'll shine. 

Mrs. Dean. [Smiling.'} You're a very bright man, Mr. 
Rosenbaum. 

RosENBAUM. Yes, I think so, but maybe I'm partial. 
Mrs. Dean. [Going to Betty.] It's all right, Betty; 
you shall have your wish, but it's a frightful risk. 
Betty. [Rocking.] I'll teach him to play it. 
Mrs. Dean. [Vindictively.] And I'll rehearse him in it 
until he drops. 

[Jerry, entering, stops at the sight of them. Rosie 
and Jerry exchange glances. Betty rises and runs 
to Jerry. 
Betty. Oh, Jerry, we're not going to be separated! I'm 
going to star [Jerry smiles] and you're going to be my 
leading man. 
Jerry. What! 

[Amazed, he looks at Rosie, who moves away. 
Betty. My leading man! 
Jerry. [Furiously.] Me? I am not! 

[He turns away. 
Betty. Why, Jerry! 
Jerry. Not by a dam sight. 

[He starts angrily for Rosenbaum, Betty towards 
the door, followed by Mrs. Dean and Rosenbaum. 
Rosenbaum. There goes my $5,000. Wait, wait! 

[Mrs. Dean brings Betty back and Rosenbaum 
returns to Jerry. 
Betty. I won't star for anybody, unless he plays the lead. 
Jerry. No, sir; not on your life. 

Mrs. Dean. [Dramatically.] This is the man who pre- 
tends to love my daughter, and yet he spurns the great 
honour that is being thrust upon him. 

Jerry. I do love your daughter. I'm willing to do any- 
thing in reason to make any sacrifice to prove that love, 
but act again! No! There are limits even to my en- 
durance!. 



140 THE SHOW SHOP [act ii 

Mrs. Dean. You love her and yet you stand by and see 
her refuse a great opportunity! The opportunity for which 
I've spent years of watchful waiting. You'll ruin a great 
career, ruin all my hopes, my dreams, because of a childish 
prejudice against the noble art of acting. If you have no 
thought of her, have pity on me, her mother. For God's 
sake, be her leading man! 

RosENBAUM. [Whispering.] Go on, do it, and we'll have 
a sure-fire failure. 

Jerry. [Grasping the idea.] Mrs. Dean, if I do this for 
you, if I beat a lot of fool lines into my brain, if I go on 
painting my face like a chorus girl, what will you do for 
me? 

Mrs. Dean. Try and make an actor of you! 

Jerry. Oh, my God! 

[Aghast, he jails back against the table. 

curtain 



THE THIRD ACT 

Scene One: The Dress Rehearsal, 

The stage of a Broadway Theatre at four a. m. of a Mon- 
day in October during the dress rehearsal of "Dora's 
Dilemma," which began at eight o'clock of the previous 
evening and is still in progress. The scene when com- 
pleted is to represent a handsomely decorated and fur- 
nished library, the walls panelled in wood to a certain 
height, above which is a frieze of tapestry. It is now 
partially finished. At the back is an opening obviously 
designed to contain a large window in several sec- 
tions as one of them with leaded glass panes is in place. 
Through this opening can be seen a garden back drop, 
lowered only half way, an electric light border, and 
beyond and below them the back wall of the theatre. 
Against this wall are stacked several pieces of scenery, 
the unpainted side turned towards the spectators and 
stencilled with the words, "Bettina Dean Co." At the 
rear and at the left of the window is a door leading 
to a hall. The backing to represent the hall is not 
in place. At the lower left is a door, the frame and the 
door are unpainted. At the right of the stage is an 
opening for a fireplace in which a fire is lighted, but 
there is no backing, andirons nor logs, so that the 
*'baby" spot which furnishes the effect of a fire-glow 
is plainly visible. There is a door at the upper right 
of the room. The ceiling of the room is not in place, 
the "lines" holding it plainly visible. There is a large 
couch placed at right angles to the fireplace, on the 
opposite side of the room a table desk with a desk 
chair, its back to the spectators. Another chair is at 
the right of the desk. Below the door at the left, 

141 



142 THE SHOW SHOP [act in 

against the wall, is a high-backed chair and one similar 
in style at the right of the room below the fireplace. 
These chairs are in the process of upholstery, the ma- 
terial applied on the arms and the backs, but the seats 
are still in muslin. An arm-chair, covered in velvet, 
stands at the right of the window. There are no dra- 
peries and the cmhion of the window seat has not been 
covered. 

Before the curtain is raised there can be heard a confused 
murmur of voices as though an act of a play was in 
progress. When it is raised the room is dimly lighted 
as though by the effect of lamplight and firelight. The 
people on the stage are made up as the characters they 
represent in "Dora's Dilemma'': Johnnie Brinkley 
as Chapman, wearing a moustache, a grey wig and a 
morning coat, vest and striped trousers; Jerry as Dick 
Bennett, in dinner clothes and cap; Billings, a stocky 
individual in a policeman's uniform, and Betty as Dora 
Chapman, in an evening gown. Tompkins as Hen- 
derson, the butler, in livery but in his shirt-sleeves, 
leans against the door at the back. He is holding the 
prompt copy of "Dora^s Dilemma'^ with which he is 
following the action of the play. Johnny is standing 
in front of the desk, Billings at the right of it. Jerry 
in the centre of the room, facing Johnny; Betty be- 
hind the couch, on which is Jerry's overcoat. Their 
attitudes are tense, their speech excited, as they are 
at the climactic moment of the third act of "Dora's 
Dilemma." 

Johnny. [To Henderson.] "Turn on those lights." 
[To Billings.] "Search him!" 

Billings. [Advancing to Jerry and threatening him 
with a pistol.'] "Hold up your hands! Hold up your 
hands!" 

Betty. Rushing down between Billings and Jerry, 



ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 143 

holding aloft the papers.] "Stop! Here are the bonds. I 
am the thief!" 

[Tompkins gives the signal for the curtain. Betty, 
Billings and Johnny hold the picture which, to 
their disgust, Jerry breaks by pivoting to the front 
and smiling. Betty hands the bonds to Johnny 
wearily. He puts them on the desk as the curtain 
falls. 
Rosenbaum. {At the rear of the auditorium.'] Take your 
curtain up. 

[There is a pause. 
Tompkins. [Behind the cutrain, and in a loud tone.] 
Say, you, come on up with that curtain. 

[The curtain rises slowly, then Mrs. Dean enters from 
the door at the left and, coming to the footlights, 
shades her eyes from their glare and peers out inta 
the auditorium. 
Mrs. Dean. Oh, Mr. Rosenbaum! 
Rosenbaum. What is it? 

Mrs. Dean. Take one good look at this scenery and then 
come on the stage, please! 

[Johnny and Billings exchange glances, then go. 
Tompkins moves down to the chair at the right of 
the desk, and sits, looking at the manuscript. Betty 
is pinning up her train with a long safety-pin. 
Betty. Mother, how was the climax that time? 
Mrs. Dean. Electrical! 

[She puts her arm around Betty's shoulder and starts 
to the couch. 
Jerry. [To Mrs. Dean.] How was I? 
Mrs. Dean. You were awful! 

[She crosses to the couch. Betty sits at the left end 
of it. Mrs. Dean stands beside her. Enter, from 
the door at the left, Granby Smith, the author, a 
tall, harassed-looking individual in a lounge suit^ 
outing shirt and soft hat. He comes to Jerry. 
Smith. Mr. Belden! 



144 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 

Jerry. [Going to him.] Yes, Mister Author. 
Smith. Are you deliberately trying to kill my play? 
Jerry. Am I as bad as that? 

Smith. Bad! [He groans and, going over to Tompkins, 
jerks the manuscript out of his hand.] Let me look at 
what's left of my script. 

[Tompkins looks at him sneeringly. Smith glowers 
at him and sits on the edge of the desk, poring over 
his play. Rosenbaum enters, passiitg Smith, mho 
glares at him, and goes to Jerry, who leads him out 
of the others' hearing. 
Jerry. Oh, Rosie! How is "Dora's Dilemma"? 
Rosie. It's a crime. 

[They laugh. 
Mrs. Dean. Mr. Rosenbaum, that act ought to make 
them sit up and take notice. 

Rosie. It's great! Great! [Turning to Smith.] Eh, 
Smith? 

Smith. It's a great act, if it's acted! 

[He throws the manuscript on the desk, takes a chair, 
places it below the tormentor at the left edge of 
the proscenium arch, where he sits, his head buried 
in his hands. Rosenbaum and Jerry laugh. Mrs. 
Dean starts to the left. Jerry turns and bumps 
into her. 
Mrs. Dean. [Exasperated.] Mr. Belden, will you sit 
down? [Jerry crosses and sits on the floor below the tor- 
mentor at the right edge of the proscenium arch.] Mr. 
Tompkins, get that scene painter! 

[Tompkins looks at Mrs. Dean disgustedly, then turns 
in his chair at the desk and yells. 
Tompkins. Painter! Painter! 

Mrs. Dean. Mr. Rosenbaum! This scenery is in awful 
shape. We'll never be ready for tonight! 

Rosenbaum. Well, you wanted a new production for New 
York and you got it. 

[He joins Smith. 



ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 145 

[Enter from the rear door the Scene Painter, an 
emaciated, dejected-looking person, carrying a paint 
pail, a colour sheet and a brush. 
Mrs. Dean. [Yelling.] Oh, Scene Painter! [He comes 
down wearily and stands beside her, looking at her va- 
cantly.] I wish to remind you that we open tonight. That 
door isn't painted. We have no back drop. [Very sarcas- 
tically.] Mere details. 

[He looks at her slowly, then yawns in her face. Mrs. 
Dean, furiotis, is about to address him violently, but 
her words are lost in the noise of a loud hammering 
begun at the rear door by Maginnis, a burly stage 
carpenter, wearing overalls and a cap. Mrs. Dean 
brushes the Scene Painter aside impatiently and 
begins yelling at Maginnis, who pays no attention 
to her. The Scene Painter goes up to the door at 
right, looks at it, then places his pot of paint and the 
colour sheet on a chair by the window, selecting, 
naturally, the only chair that has been covered with 
velvet and that might be damaged. Then he walks 
out of the door at the right, wearily. Mrs. 
Dean continues to try to make herself heard above 
the din of the hammering. Tompkins finally comes 
to her rescue. 
Tompkins. Maginnis! 
Maginnis. [Truculently.] Well? 

Mrs. Dean. If that door squeaks tonight in my daugh- 
ter's big scene, tomorrow I'll be sending you a wreath of 
Immortels. 

Maginnis. [Getting paper of tobacco out of his pocket 
and taking a chew.] Don't worry; it'll be all right to- 
night. 

Mrs. Dean. [Bitterly.] Every thing'll be all right to- 
night! 

Maginnis. Yes'sum, I hope the play will. 

[He winks at Tompkins as he goes. 
[Mrs. Dean turns and sees Jerry sitting beside Betty. 



146 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 

She glares at him. He rises quickly and, going to 
the window-seat, lies on it. Mrs. Dean having 
settled him, turns and sees Ike Goldman, the Elec- 
trician, entering at the left door. He is tall and 
rather pleasant-looking. His shirt-sleeves are rolled 
up, showing that his hands and arms are stained yel- 
low and red by the dyes in which he has been dip- 
ping the electric light bulbs that he is carrying. He 
starts to talk to Tompkins when Mrs. Dean inter- 
rupts him. 
Mrs. Dean^ [Severely.'] Electrician! The stage was 
much too dark in this act. More light, please. 

[She turns and joins Betty. 
Goldman. [To Tompkins.] I should think she'd want 
to hide this act. 

Tompkins. Don't worry; it'll be buried tonight! Give 
us your foots. 

Goldman. [Calling off left.] Oh, Jimmy, come on up 
with your foots! 

[He goes. 
HiCKSON, the Property Man, a stout young man with 
a disagreeable cast of countenance and an overbear- 
ing manner J comes in the door at the right, followed 
by his assistant, Steve, a small, slight, meek youth. 
They are wearing sack suits and soft hats. Hickson 
goes quickly to the window-seat where Jerry is ly- 
ing. Hickson unceremoniotisly brushes Jerry off 
the seat and climbs on it. Jerry picks himself up 
and bows elaborately to Hickson, who sneers at him, 
then begins to take a measurement of the window 
with a foot-rule which his minion, Steve, has car- 
ried on. Mrs. Dean, turning, sees him. 
Mrs. Dean. Oh, Property-man! Property-man! 

[Hickson pays no attention to her. 
Tompkins. Hickson! 

Hickson. [Measuring the window.] Well? 
Mrs. Dean. Where are the pictures for this act? 



ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 147 

HiCKSON. [To Steve.] Six foot, four inches. [To Mrs. 
Dean.] What pictures? 
Tompkins. The ones I ordered. 

[HiCKSON jumps off the window-seat, grabs the prop- 
erty list from Steve's hand and gives him the rider. 
He comes down to Mrs. Dean. 
HiCKSON. [Insolently.'] Anyone show me any pictures on 
that list, I'll give 'em a nice little kiss. What pictures do 
you want? 

Mrs. Dean. [Placating him.] Can you get me a few fine 
old masterpieces? 

HiCKSON. Sure! The property room is just full of 'em. 
Come on, Steve. 

[Steve goes out the door at the right. Jerry is stand- 
ing there. Hickson, following Steve, throws Jerry 
out of the way. Jerry shakes his fist at Hickson, 
follows him, but returns immediately. 
RosENBAUM. Mrs. Dean, the author has an idea. 
Mrs. Dean. Let me get it before he loses it. 

[She joins Rosenbaum and Smith at the proscenium 
arch at the left. 
Rosenbaum. Tompkins, call the company. 
Tompkins. Everybody on stage, please. 

[He rises wearily. 
Betty. [Rising.] Jerry, how do you like my dress? 
[She unpins the train, letting it fall on the floor, and 
walks up and down. 
Jerry. Immense! 
Betty. I'm just mad about the train. 

[She moves to the right. Jerry follows her. 
Tompkins. [Yelling.] Everybody on stage, please! 
[The members of the company appear at the various en- 
trances.] Oh J come on! 

[He glowers at them, but it has no effect. They stroll 
on. Miss Donahue, a tall, beautiful blonde in an 
elaborate and extremely decollete dress; Miss Far- 
RiNGTON, a red-headed divinity, gorgeously attired; 



148 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 

Miss Toby, a pretty, girlish brunette in a maid's 
costume, and Effie, looking remarkably well in a 
dark blue velvet evening gown, advance to the foot- 
lights and, placing their hands below their eyes, look 
out over them into the auditorium. Jerry comes 
over to them. 
Jerry. Girls, you look great! Effie, if Ziegfeld ever sees 
you, you're gone! 

[Billings comes hurrying in from the door at the left, 
j allowed by Johnny. They join the group. Jerry 
goes over to Betty, whispers to her. She turns and 
sees that Mrs. Dean is busily engrossed with 
RosENBAUM and Smith, then, taking Jerry's arm, 
they run out through the door at the right. Effie, 
Miss Donahue, Billings, Miss Toby, Johnny, 
Miss Farrington and Tompkins, who is leaning 
against the desk, are lined up from right to left. 
They shift wearily from one foot to another, yawn- 
ing. 
Effie. [Yawning.] What time is it? 

[Billings shoves up the sleeve of his policeman's 
uniform and looks at his wrist watch. 
Billings. [In a pronounced English accent.'] A bit after 
four. 

Farrington. If I'm going to keep this job, my dressing- 
room ought to have a cot and a kitchenette. 

Miss Donahue. My Gawd, and there are people who 
want to go on the stage! 

Tompkins. [Sarcastically.] Where do you horn in? 
Miss Donahue. Mr. Rosenbaum insisted that he needed 
my personality to put this piece over. 

Tompkins. [To Mrs. Dean.] Who do you want in this 
act? 

Mrs. Dean. [Over her shoulder.] I have suggestions for 
all of you. 

[She turns again to Smith. 



ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP U9 

Johnny. She's the woman who put the hearse in re- 
hearsal I 

[He sits in the chair at the desk. 
RosENBAUM. Tompkins, fetch the script. 

[Tompkins takes the manuscript to Rosenbaum, who 
abetted by Mrs. Dean begins to browbeat the 
author. 
Miss Toby. What are they going to do? 
Effie. [Sarcastically.^ I suppose they're going to rewrite 
the piece again and give Dora another dilemma. 

Miss Donahue. If it isn't right now, with three weeks* 
rehearsal and two weeks on the road, I can see where I 
go back to manicuring. 

[Effie goes up to the couch and puts on Jerry's over- 
coat , which is thrown across it. 
Mrs. Dean. [To Smith.] Just let that suggestion pene- 
trate, if it can. 

[She crosses over and stands in front of the company. 
In her hand are slips of paper on which she has made 
memoranda. 
Tompkins. Now, children! 

Rosenbaum. [Following Mrs. Dean.] Mrs. Dean has 
some valuable suggestions. 

[The company look at one another disgustedly. Tomp- 
kins sits on the left end of the desk. Smith, in his 
chair at the proscenium arch, groans loudly. Every- 
one looks at Smith. 
Mrs. Dean. [To Smith.] Mr. Smith, are you in pain? 
Smith. Would it matter to anybody if I were? 

[HiCKSON and Steve return through the door at the 
right, carrying the "masterpieces.** Steve comes 
down between Effie and Miss Donahue. Hickson 
comes down between Miss Farrington and Miss 
Toby. They push the actresses aside rudely, 
Rosenbaum. [Going to Hickson.] What is it? 
HiCKSON. Here's your masterpieces. Show 'em, Steve! 
[Steve turns the picture face out to the audience. It 



150 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 

is a badly painted watermelon with a slice cut out 
of it. HiCKSON turns the picture he is carrying. 
It is a plate of lemons. 
RosENBAUM. [Pointing to Hickson's picture.] Say, 
what is that? 

HiCKSON. [To RosENBAUM.] A plate of lemons. [Look- 
ing at Smith.] I thought it was appropriate. 

[Smith rises and rushes to the centre. Rosenbaum 
stops him. Steve and Hickson look indifferently 
at Smith. 
Steve. Who's the string-bean? 

HiCKSON. [Indicating Smith.] That? It^s the author, 
the poor simp! Come on. 

[Rosenbaum takes Smith back to the chair y while 
HiCKSON and Steve push their way between the 
actresses again and go. Effie settles herself com- 
fortably in the corner of the couch. 
Rosenbaum. [Advancing.] Attention, please. Now 

Mrs. Dean 

Mrs. Dean. [Consulting notes.] Oh, where was I? Oh, 
yes, Miss Toby! [Miss Toby, who is made up like a 
*'vamp" with very red lips and a very mhite face, walks 
down centre. Mrs. Dean leads her down to the foot- 
lights.] My dear, more red on your cheeks, and less on 
your lips. I know that your home life is beyond re- 
proach, but if you're going to look like that, no one in the 
audience will believe it. [Miss Toby shrugs her shoulder, 
goes up and sits on window-seat.] Miss Farrington. 
[Miss Farrington, who is talking to Billings, pays no 
attention to Mrs. Dean.] Miss Farrington! [Miss 
Farrington walks down left of Mrs. Dean in a very in- 
solent manner.] When you're introduced to the gentlemen 
in this act, smile pleasantly. Don't try to lure them to 
destruction. [Miss Farrington is furious. She joins Miss 
Toby on the window-seat.] Oh, Miss Donahue! Step 
down, please! [Miss Donahue walks down to the foot- 
lights.] Now, would you turn around, please? [Miss 



ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 151 

Donahue turns. She is in an evening dress, which is cut 
to the ^^ limit" in the back.] Are you dressed for the opera, 
or exposed for an operation? 

Miss Donahue. [Very languidly.} My public is used 
to seeing a great deal of me. 

RosENBAUM. [Winking at Tompkins.] They^re not go- 
ing to be disappointed. 

[Miss Donahue smiles at Rosenbaum. Billings 
puts his monocle in his eye and, staring at her, fol- 
lows her up to the window-seat. 
Mrs. Dean. Oh, Effie! Effie! [Effie, rising, drops the 
overcoat from her shoulders and walks down to Mrs. Dean, 
who turns to Rosenbaum.] Don't you think she looks a 
little young? 

Effie. It's not my fault if I've retained my youth and 
beauty. 

Mrs. Dean. [Snapping at her.] Mr. Belden is supposed 
to be your son. 

Effie. I could have been married when I was sixteen. 
Rosenbaum. It's my fault. I told her to cut out the 
grey hair. Who wants to look at an old woman, if they 
don't have to? 

Mrs. Dean. [Satirically.] You seem to forget that she's 
a broken-hearted mother. Trouble seems to make her hair 
grow brighter. [Effie looks at her indignantly, and walks 
away. Mrs. Dean goes towards Johnny. She beckons 
to Rosenbaum.] What's the matter with Johnny's nose? 
Rosenbaum. I don't know. Let's look at it. [Calling.] 
Johnny! 

[Johnny, who has been asleep in the chair beside the 
desk, rouses himself, then comes down to Rosen- 
baum and Mrs. Dean. They look at him. Tomp- 
kins rises and comes down to the left of Johnny. 
Effie turns and comes to the right of him. Smith 
moves impatiently in his chair, 
Johnny. What is it? 
Rosenbaum. Your nose. 



152 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 

Mrs. Dean. If you could make it recede a little. 
Johnny. I'm no Doctor Woodbury. 
Effie. Looks all right to me. 
RosENBAUM. Maybe it's the moustache. 
Mrs. Dean. Perhaps if you wore a bow tie. 
Tompkins. Have you tried white grease paint? 
Johnny. I've tried everything but putting a ring in it. 
{Everybody, even Mrs. Dean, roars with laughter y 
which maddens Smith who rises and rushes over to 
them. 
Smith. Great Heavens! Do you people realise that we 
open tonight? 

[^Everyone stops and looks in surprise at Smith. 
RosENBAUM. Sure, we realise it. 

Smith. Then why don't you get down to business, get 
to something important? 

Mrs. Dean. Important? These things are vital. 
Smith. Vital! Is his nose vital? 
Johnny. I can't get along without it. 

[Everybody laughs again. 
Smith. [^Furiously.'] You've seen him wear it every 
night for two weeks. Why wait until the last minute to 
attend to such fiddling details? 

Mrs. Dean. [Angrily] If we hadn't had to "fiddle" so 
much with that ill-constructed mass of verbiage, you call a 
play. 

[She walks away to the right. Smith to the left, 
RosENBAUM. Come, come, children, this is a rehearsal, 
not a prize fight. [He runs to Mrs. Dean and whispers.] 
After all, he is the author. Humour him now. We'll do 
what we like afterwards. [He runs over to Smith, whis- 
pers.'] Humour her. She's a bear. 

[He puts his arm through Smith's and drags him over 
to Mrs. Dean, then putting his arm through Mrs. 
Dean's, he stands between them smiling. They 
are the personification of dislike and antagonism. 



ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 153 

RosENBAUM. Now, wc'rc all friends again, see. [To 
Mrs. Dean.] Now, what next? 

Mrs. Dean. [Witheringly.'] Oh, no, let's straighten out 
Mr. Smith's little worries. 

[She moves away to the right and leans against the 
proscenium arch. Johnny and Effie, who is again 
wearing Jerry's overcoat, are seated on the couch, 
Tompkins beside the desk, the others in the window- 
seat. 
RosENBAUM. [To Smith.] Now, what^s on your mind? 
Smith. [Impressively.'] Well, I've always thought that 
if Mrs. Brinkley and Mr. Belden played their scene on 
that side of the stage [indicating right], instead of on this 
side [indicating left], it would improve it wonderfully. 

[He smiles in self-satisfaction. 
Effie, More study. 

Mrs. Dean. My dear, let's do anything that will im- 
prove it. 

[Smith glares at Mrs. Dean and walks away to the 
left. 
RosENBAUM. Tompkins, we'll take Mrs. Brinkley's and 
Belden's scene. 

[Enter the Scene Painter with a ladder. He rests it 
against the frame of the door at the right, then get- 
ting the paint pail from the armchair, climbs up on 
ladder. 
Tompkins. [Calling.] Mrs. Brinkley and Belden! Clear 
everybody! 

.[Miss Toby, Miss Farrington and Billings exit 
hurriedly and then reappear at the door at the left, 
to watch the rehearsal of the scene. Johnny and 
Miss Donahue drag themselves off wearily not in- 
terested in anything. Mrs. Dean goes to the pro- 
scenium arch at the right, Rosenbaum, to it at the 
left. Tompkins turns and sees the Scene Painter. 
Tompkins. [Furiously.] Painter! I said clear. 



154 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 

\The painter pays not the slightest attention. There 
is a pause. 
RosENBAUM. Oh, let him paint. 

Effie. [Wearily to Mrs. Dean.] Where do you want 
me to begin? 

Mrs. Dean. Ask the author. 

Smith. From Belden's entrance. [Effie starts to walk 
over to the desk at the left. Smith rushes to her.] And 
we're going to play it over there. 

[He points to the right, 

Effie. [Angrily.] It's a fine time to fuss me in the only 

scene I have in the play. [Smith strides away juriously. 

Effie, thinking she *'has him," points to a photograph on 

the desk.] [Innocently.] How do I get that photograph? 

Smith. [Sarcastically.] Don't you think 

Effie. [Sweetly.] I have been engaged to act, not to 
think. 

[Smith gives it up in despair and goes to his chair at 
the proscenium and sinks into it wearily. Rosen- 
BAUM tries to console him. Mrs. Dean looks over 
at them in sarcastic pity. Jerry and Betty, un- 
seen by anyone, do a fox trot back of the -window 
from the right to the left and disappear. Effie 
stands victorious in the centre. Tompkins is de- 
lighted with her. 
Effie. [Patiently.] Well? 
Mrs. Dean. Oh, take it with you. 
Effie. [Getting the photograph from the desk.] Is this 
supposed to be my son's photograph? 
Smith. Certainly, certainly. 

Effie. Well, I might have something to get me into a 
sentimental frame of mind. This is Lillian Russell. 

Rosenbaum. [Taking it, hands it to Tompkins.] 
Tompkins, make a note of that. 
Tompkins. Hickson! 

[Hickson appears at the door at the left. 
Hickson. [Snarling.] What do you want? 



ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 155 

Tompkins. [Handing the photograph to Hickson.] 
Strike Russell! 

[Hickson takes the photograph and goes, 

Effie. M-m-m-m-m-m-m — long speech ending with 

[very sweetly'] "overflowing with tenderness." [Jerry and 

Betty fox-trot across back of the window left to right, and 

disappear. There is a pause. Acidly.] "Overflowing 

with tenderness " 

[A pause. 
RosENBAUM. [Irritated.] Where's Belden? 

[Betty and Jerry, still unobserved, trot back of the 
window, doing a back and forward step. 
Tompkins. [At the desk.] I called him. 
Mrs. Dean. [Viciously calling.] "Overflowing with 

tenderness " 

Tompkins. Oh Belden! 

Betty. [Off stage.] Jerry, your cuel 

Jerry. Coming! 

[In crossing to the right at the back of the window, he 
knocks a large tray off the top of a bunch light, then 
he appears at the door where the Painter is on the 
ladder. 
Everybody. The ladder! The ladder! Don't walk un- 
der the ladder! 

[Jerry disappears, then is seen running past the win- 
dow to the door at the rear, from which he enters 
breathlessly. 
Jerry. I'm sorry. [He walks down to the chair at the 
desk, turns and sees Effie on the couch.] What are you 
doing over there? 
Effie. Don't ask me. 
Jerry. How do I get there! 
Rosenbaum. Walk. 

Mrs. Dean. Unless you've developed locomotor ataxia. 
Effie. [Crossly.] Oh, come on. [She rises, goes to 
Jerry, and puts her hands on his shoulder and in the char- 



156 THE SHOW SHOP [act m 

acter of Mr. Bennett, speaks tenderly.'] "My son! My 
son!" 

[She is interrupted by the crash of a falling object off 
stage. 
Tompkins. {Yelling.] Quiet off stage! 

Effie. "My " 

[Again she is interrupted by a similar sound. 
M'GiNNis. [Off stage.] Hey Monk, keep quiet. 

Jerry. "Mother — mother — ^you '^ 

Monk. [Off stage.] Damn slave driver! 
RosENBAUM. Quiet off stage! 

Effie. "Promise me you'll never do this again — or " 

M'GiNNis. [Off stage.] I'll cave in yer dome! 

[Jerry laughs. Effie moves away in disgust. 
Smith rises and rushes to Rosenbaum. 
Smith. [Bitterly.] Marvellous discipline! 
Rosenbaum. Oh, cut to the exit. 

[Effie goes to Jerry, places her hands on his shoul- 
ders, looking up into his face with a sweet, motherly 
expression. 
Effie. "You've made me so happy! My son!" 
Jerry. Do you want me to move away from here now? 
Effie. [Grabs him by the shoulder, very angrily.] You 
stand still until I get through with you. [Tenderly.] "My 

son, my son." Kiss. Bing 

[She makes a motion of kissing him on the left cheek, 
then on the right. 

Jerry. Bing 

Effie. Let me see. I turned that way, now I turn this 
way. [She starts for the rear door, scowling at Smith.] 
Well, I hope I get off, it's a mile up to this door. 

[She meets Johnny, who is waiting for her with a cup 
of coffee. They both disappear off left, Effie talk- 
ing angrily. 
Rosenbaum. What else? 
Smith. [Coming to the centre.] The love scene. 



ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 157 

Mrs. Dean. [Moving toward him.] Do you think it's 
necessary? 

Jerry. Oh sure, I'd like to. [He dashes up to the rear 
door and calls off stage.] Oh, Betty! 
Betty. [Off stage.] In a minute! 

Smith. [To Mrs. Dean.] Belden is the limit in that 
love scene! 

[Betty , appears at the rear door carrying two cups of 
coffee. She comes down to her mother. 
Betty. Here mother. 

Mrs. Dean. [Taking the cup.] Thank you, darling. 
Betty. [Offering the cup to Smith.] Mr. Smith. 
Smith. Oh, no. 

[He waves it aside impatiently and goes to the couch 
where he sits. Betty gives the cup to Jerry, who 
puts it on the stand in the left corner of the window. 
Jerry. [Eagerly.] Come on, the love scene. 

[Miss Donahue appears at the back of the window 
and sits on the off stage side of the window-seat. 
Betty and Jerry take positions at the centre, 
Betty at the right of Jerry. Mrs. Dean stands 
at the proscenium arch, at the right. Tompkins 
is seated on the desk with the manuscript. Rosen- 
baum stands beside him. 
Jerry. Are you set? 

Betty. [Striking an affected attitude.] Uh huh I 
Jerry. Oh, excuse me a minute. 

[He crosses to Betty and they try three positions of 
the arms in an embrace, and each time Jerry kisses 
her. Smith looks at Mrs. Dean imploringly. 
Mrs. Dean. [Wearily.] We're waiting, Mr. Belden. 
Jerry. Just getting the finish right. 
Mrs. Dean. Well, we won't overdo it. 

[She puts her coffee cup on the mantel. Betty, her 
back towards Jerry, re-assumes her pose. Jerry 
goes to the left of her. 



158 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 

Jerry. Ah — ah — ^m-m-m-m-m-m 



[He turns and looks at Tompkins. 

Tompkins. [Prompting him.] "Oh my " 

Jerry. "Oh my " [He looks at Tompkins again.] 

Oh my what? 

Tompkins. [Prompting.] "Adored " 

Jerry Adored. "Oh, my adored one." [He goes to 
Smith.] Say, can't we can that "adored one"? 

Smith. [Jumping up.] Why? 

Jerry. I'd never say that. 

Smith. [To Mrs. Dean.] He'd never say that! [To 

Jerry.] You'd never Do you reaUse I've worked 

days and nights to find that phrase? 

Jerry. [Laughingly.] Did you? Well, I can find a 
whole raft of things to say to her and not half try. Can't 
I, Betty? 

[Smith falls back on the couch, Jerry goes up to 
take Betty in his arms. 

Mrs. Dean. [Furiously.] Mr. Belden, this is a re- 
hearsal! 

Jerry. Oh, excuse me! [He takes his position at the left 

of Betty.] Ah — m-m-m-m-m-m-m [Laughing, he 

looks at Tompkins for assistance.] Isn't that a funny 
thing? 

Tompkins. [Angrily.] The same. 

Jerry. Oh, yes. [Very amateurishly.] "Oh, my adored 
one. I love you with a fever " 

Smith. [Jumping up from the couch distractedly.] 
Fervour! Fervour! 

Jerry. "I love you with a fervour that's undying. [He 
advances one step awkwardly toward Betty.] Can't you 
[another step], won't you [another step] love me just a 
little in return?" 

Betty. [Passionately.] "Hove you now." 

[She turns and throws herself into his arms. 

Jerry. [Casually.] "And I love you." 

[Smith looks at him in disgust, then throws himself 



ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 159 

upon the couch. Mrs. Dean, overcome by the hor- 
ror of his acting, bows her head on the mantel-piece. 
RosENBAUM shivers, then looks at Tompkins, whose 
expression is one of pain. Betty moves away 
wearily and sits beside Miss Donahue on the win- 
dow-seat. 
Rosenbaum. Oh, it's so tame! 
Mrs. Dean. [Despairingly.'] I give it up. 

[^She joins Smith on the couch, 
Rosenbaum. What do you think, Tompkins? 

Tompkins. {^Rising.] If he got a little, a little 

[^He tries to illustrate "pep" by a movement of his 
hands. 
Rosenbaum. Yes, that's a good idea. Oh Jerry. 
[Jerry joins them.] Now, what you want in this scene 

is a little 

[He imitates Tompkins' gesture. 
[Smith, afraid that they are going to do something 
else to his play, rushes down to the group. Tomp- 
kins and Rosenbaum repeat their gesture. Jerry 
watches them utterly bewildered, then imitating 
them, turns to Smith. 
Jerry. What does that mean? 

[Rosenbaum and Tompkins look despairingly at 
Jerry, then shaking their heads despondently, move 
away, Rosenbaum sitting in the chair at the pro- 
scenium arch at the left, Tompkins on the desk, his 
back to Jerry. 
Smith. I suppose he means to put in a little pep! 
Jerry. Mrs. Dean asked me to tone it down. 
Smith. No, no! And Miss Dean [going up to her], get 
a little abandon into it. 

Mrs. Dean. [Jumping up.] Betty! Some chaste aban- 
don. 

[She goes to the proscenium arch at the right. Smith, 
hopeless, sits on the couch. 
Rosenbaum. [Impatiently.] Oh go on, take the finish. 



160 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 

[Betty rising, comes toward Jerry. He puts his 
arms around her. 
Jerry. [Indifferently.] ''I love you." [Passionately.] Oh 
Lord! How much I love you! 

Smith. [Rising.] That last line isn't in the part. 
Jerry. It just slipped out naturally. 
Betty. Oh say it, Jerry, it sounds awfully sweet. 
Smith. Oh, are you going to re-write my piece, too, Miss 
Dean? 

Mrs. Dean. Everybody else has, why discriminate 
against my daughter? 

[Smith rushes to leave the stage. Rosenbaum rises 
and grabs him. 
Rosenbaum. Oh, what makes you authors so sensitive? 

Mrs. Dean. Now, if Mr. Smith has finished 

Smith. Oh, I'm through, I'm through. 

[He sits on the chair from which Rosenbaum has 
risen. 
Mrs. Dean. [Taking command.] Then we'll take the 
third act climax. 
Jerry. Oh, the one I'm punk in? 

Mrs. Dean. That designation would fit any of your 
scenes. 

Jerry. Will you tell me what you want me to do? 
Mrs. Dean. Do you know what Dora's Dilemma is? 
Jerry. No, do you? 

Mrs. Dean. You've been playing in this piece for two 
weeks. 

Jerry. You could play in this piece for two years and 
not know what it's about. 

Smith. [Rushing at Jerry.] Oh, is that so? 
Jerry. I beg your pardon. Where am I worst? 
Mrs. Dean. Words fail me! [To Rosenbaum.] You 
talk to him. 

[She sinks on the couch, utterly worn out. Smith 
joins Miss Donahue on the window-seat. She 
tries to console him. Betty sits in the chair be- 



ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 161 

side the desk on which Tompkins is seated. Miss 
Farrington, Miss Toby and Billings leave their 
post of observation at the door at the left. Effie 
appears yawning, and goes to the chair where Smith 
has been seated and huddled in Jerry's overcoat, 
falls asleep. Jerry, eager to do what is asked of 
him, stands at the centre. Rosenbaum advances on 
him belligerently. 
Rosenbaum. You're afraid your firm will miss the bonds. 
You've come here to Chapman's library to get them. You're 
desperate. 
Jerry. Why am I desperate? 

[Rosenbaum looks at him. He gives it up and joins 

Mrs. Dean on the couch. Smith rushes down to 

Jerry. 

Smith. Great Heavens! Didn't you tell your mother 

earlier in this act that if you didn't get the bonds you'd 

commit suicide? 

Mrs. Dean. [Bitterly.'] Sometimes I wish he had. 
Betty. [Rising impatiently, goes to Jerry.] Oh, never 
mind what it all means. It's a part, Jerry, — act it. 

[She returns to the chair wearily.. 
Mrs. Dean. [Rising.] We'll take the scene from *'Be- 
hind the curtain." 

[Miss Donahue leaves the window-seat and disap- 
pears to the right. Miss Toby and Miss Farrington 
appear at the back of the window going towards the 
left. Smith takes a position at the back of the 
couch. Rosenbaum remains seated on it. Mrs. 
Dean goes to the right to watch the scene. Jerry 
goes up to the window-seat, Tompkins to the door, 
Betty following him. 
Tompkins. Oh, Billings, Brinkley! On stage. 
Billings. Coming. 

[Billings and Johnny enter. 

Tompkins. Ready everybody. The struggle in the dark. 

[Betty takes her position at the door, her back to the 



162 THE SHOW SHOP [act iii 

spectators, her hand outstretched towards the button 
that is supposed to switch on the electric lights. 
Billings stands behind the desk, Johnny in front 
of it. 
Johnny. [Very dramatically.] Bla-bla-bla — ^long speech 

•ending in "Behind the curtain " 

Jerry. [Standing on the window-seat.] Where's my 
overcoat? 

[He jumps off the seat. 
Mrs. Dean. How should I know? Ask the stage man- 
ager. 

Tompkins. Now I'm the coat room boy. 
Johnny. Heaven preserve us from these amateurs. 
[Smith looks for it at the back of the couch, Rosen- 
BAUM underneath it, Mrs. Dean under the chair at 
the right, Tompkins behind the window-seat. 
Betty, Billings and Johnny wait, resignedly. 
RosENBAUM. I paid sixty dollars for that coat. 
Betty. [Impatiently.] Jerry, where did you put it? 
Jerry. I don't know. 

Smith. Is there any damn thing you do know? 
Betty. Effie's got it on. 

Johnny. That woman would sleep anyivhere. [He goes 
io her and shakes her.] Brooklyn! All out I 

Effie. Why did you wake me? I dreamt the play was 
a hit! 

[Everybody is disgusted. Jerry laughs, but subsides 
as they all turn and stare at him witheringly. Effie 
rises, Johnny grabs the coat and takes it to Jerry 
who puts it on. Effie, yawning and shivering with 
the cold, starts for the door at the left. Smith 
crossing to the chair where Effie has been seated, 
glowers at her. Effie tosses her head and goes. 
Mrs. Dean is leaning against the proscenium arch 
at the right, Rosenbaum beside her. Betty, Bil- 
lings and Johnny take their places. Tompkins 



ACT in] THE SHOW SHOP 16S 

stands in the door at the left, holding the manu- 
script. Jerry starts for the window- 
Jerry. [^Stopping.'] Where are the bonds? 
Johnny. [^Giving him the bonds which he has taken 
from the desk.] You ought to have a nurse! 
Tompkins. [Wearily.] Ready, ready! 

[Jerry gets up on the window-seat. 
Johnny. [Very dramatically.] Bla-bla — long speech, 

ending with "Behind the curtain" 

Jerry. Where's the curtain? 
Mrs. Dean. We will simulate the curtain. 
Jerry. What do I do to the curtain? 
Betty. Oh, pretend there's one there. 
Tompkins. [Despairingly.] Ready! 
Jerry. Now wait a minute, there's going to be a cur- 
tain? 

Rosenbaum. [Fiercely.] Of course, of course! 
Jerry. No harm in asking. I was only introduced to 
this window tonight. 

[He gets in position to leap from the window-seat, 
Tompkins. Ready, Johnny? 

Johnny. Wait a minute. [To Jerry.] Have you got 
everything? 

Jerry. [Feeling in the pocket of his overcoat.] Yes. 
Johnny. Bla-bla-bla long speech ending with "behind the 
curtain." 

Betty. [At door.] Business. Button. Lights out — 
bing! 

[On the word "bing'' she presses the button on the 
right side of the door. The lights do not go out. 
Everybody on the stage looks up to see what is the 
matter with the lights. Betty comes down impa- 
tiently. 
Betty. Oh mother, why don't the lights go out? 
Rosenbaum. Call the electrician! 
Tompkins. [Calling.] Goldman! 



164 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 

HiCKSON. [Appearing at the rear door.] The electri- 
cian's gone to breakfast. 

[He goes. 

Mrs. Dean. Mr. Belden, we'll 

Jerry. We will simulate the darkness. I get you, I 
get you. 

Betty. [Betty returns to the door, repeating the busi- 
ness of pushing the button.] Business, button, lights out, 
bing! 

[Billings starts for the window. Jerry springs off 
the window-seat. They seize each other fiercely , and 
struggle. Betty rushes behind them to the back of 
the couch, and begins, apparently, to look for some- 
thing. She is being very dramatic. Suddenly she 
stops and runs toward Mrs. Dean. 
Betty. [Shrieking.] Mother! Mother! He's got on 
the overcoat. [She rushes at Jerry in a fury.] Jerry Bel- 
den, if you forget to take that overcoat off tonight, behind 
that curtain and leave it there for me [pointing to the back 
of the couch] I'll die right here. 

[She sits on the couch, her head buried in her hands. 
Jerry. [Going to her.] That's all right. I won't forget 
it, but if I do, don't worry! 

[Billings is standing by the desk. Jerry leaps 
through the air and lands on him. They begin to 
struggle fiercely. Rosenbaum rushes and grabs 
Jerry; Mrs. Dean, following him, tries to get to 
Jerry Smith runs up and seizes Billings. They 
try to stop the struggle, but as it is the one thing 
that Jerry can do well, he continues and pidls 
everybody to and fro in the room. Finally it pene- 
trates to him that they want to tell him something, 
so he stops. 
Mrs. Dean. [Shrieking at Jerry.] It^s her stealing the 
bonds out of your overcoat when you are being searched 
that is the big moment of the act. 



ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 165 

RosENBAUM. [Raging.] If you have the coat on, how 
is she going to get them? 

Smith. [Wildly.] The overcoat's the plot of my piece. 
Jerry. [Placidly.] All right, all right! No need to get 
excited. I'll take it off. 

[He takes off the overcoat, puts it on the back of the 
couch and starts for the window-seat. Mrs. Dean, 
very much shaken, moves away, supported on one 
side by Rosenbaum, and on the other by Smith. 
It is the one moment in which the three are in ac- 
cord. 
Smith. Can you beat it! Forgot to take off the over- 
coat! 

Rosenbaum. You'll never get your curtain down tonight 
if he does it. 

Mrs. Dean. If I had the strength to do it, I'd strangle 
him now. 

Tompkins. [Resignedly.] Ready! Ready! 

[Betty, Billings and Johnny ^^gain take their posi- 
tions. RosiE and Mrs. Dean go over to the right. 
Smith to his chair at the left. They wait. Jerry 
starts to get on the window-seat, stops and comes 
down. 
Jerry. Excuse me, I'll tell you what rattles me. It's 
just going over bits of the scene. I don't know where I'm 
at to have somebody say — "bla-bla-bla — long speech end- 
ing in 'Behind the curtain.' " It gets my nanny. Now if 
we could only go over the whole thing once. 

Mrs. Dean. Well^ I suppose 

Betty. [Coming down angrily.] We haven't done the 
last act yet. I want a few hours' sleep before the per- 
formance. 

[She returns to the door. 
Jerry. It's easy enough for you people, but I'm not an 
actor. 

Smith. I should say not! 



166 THE SHOW SHOP [act iii 

Jerry Say, you're not any more stuck on me than I am 
on myself. 

[Magginis enters from the rear door yawning. He 
looks up at the ceiling and then calls to the men in 
the "flies." 

Maginnis. Hey you, come on down with yer back lines, 
yer back lines, you dope! 

Jerry. [Tmning to Maginnis.] Are you talking to me? 

Magginis. No, I don't talk to actors! 

[The ceiling is lowered into place with a rush, and 
Magginis goes. 

Jerry. Oh, let her go! 

Betty. Business — door — button — lights out — ^bing! 
[Jerry dashes out from the window and throws the 
overcoat on the back of the couch. Betty runs to 
get the bonds from the pocket. Billings rushes at 
Jerry, who grabs him and they begin to rehearse in 
plain view an old fashioned "struggle in the dark" in 
which violent noise is more important than violent 
action. With Jerry's assistance, Billings vaults 
lightly in the air and Jerry holds him above his 
head, then falls slowly backward with Billings on 
top of him, both grunting loudly. 

Billings. Are you all right? 

Jerry. Yes. Choke me. 

[Billings does so and Jerry emits sounds of stran- 
gling. They roll over. Jerry, who is on top, rises 
and standing over Billings, takes him by the shoul- 
ders and slams him gently up and down two or three 
times as Billings groans and imitates the sound of 
a falling body by knocking loudly on the floor with 
his heel. 

Jerry. Are you comfortable? 

Billings. Oh, very! 

[Jerry pulls Billings up on his feet, then turns him 
around, his back to the desk, and begins to back htm 
towards it. 



ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 167 

Jerry. One — two — three — ^slapl 

[He slaps Billings' open hand which Billings holds 
up to the left side of his face. Billings groans. 
Jerry. One — two — three — slap^ [The same "busi- 
ness" is repeated. Billings groans very loudly. They 
back to the right of the desk. Jerry, holding Billings up 
very carefully, pushes a desk blotter and the phone out of 
the way, then lays Billings very gently on the top of the 
desk.] I'm not hurting you? 
Billings. Not at all, old dear! 

[Jerry slaps the desk loudly with his right hand. Bil- 
lings groans frightfully. Jerry pulls Billings up 
on his feet. Billings pushes Jerry lightly away. 
Jerry staggers backwards wildly to the right. 
Johnny points at him dramatically. 
Johnny. "Search him!" 

Billings. "Put up your hands! [Jerry hesitates. Betty 
gets the bonds out of the overcoat pocket.] Put up your 
hands!" 

[He points the revolver at Jerry, who puts up his 

hands. Betty rushes down between Jerry and 

Billings to the centre, making a picture with the 

bonds held high over her head in her right hand. 

Betty. "Stop! Here are the bonds! I am the thief!" 

Tompkins. Curtain! 

[He imitates with a downward motion of his hand the 
falling of the curtain. Betty, Johnny and Bil- 
lings "hold the picture," tensely dramatic in their 
attitudes and expressions. Jerry turns to the front 
and grins idiotically, destroying the effect of the 
climax. The others see him and "break the pic- 
ture," Betty sitting in the window-seat, Johnny in 
the chair, in front of the desk, Tompkins on the 
desk, Billings in the chair at the right of the desk, 
Smith slumps despairingly in his chair at the left, 
Mrs. Dean on the couch and beside her Rosen- 
BAUM holding her hand. Their backs are turned ^ 



168 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 

Jerry, who is so awful they cannot bear to look 
at him. Jerry looks at them, smiling a little wist- 
fully. There is a pause, then Jerry worried, al- 
most frightened, joins Betty on the window-seat. 
She refuses to talk to him. 
RoSENBAUM. [Rising, beckoning to Smith.] Well, what 
do you think? 

Smith. {Meeting him.'] Terrible! 
Mrs. Dean. [Going to them.] I don't believe we can 
open with him. 

Smith. Every time he comes on he takes the child of 
my brain and simply chokes it to death. 

Rosenbaum. Let's take it from his first entrance. Maybe 
he can work into it. Children, we'll take it over from 
Jerry's entrance. 

[Smith, Rosenbaum and Mrs. Dean return to 
their places at the left and at the right. Johnny 
sits in the chair in front of the desk. Billings 
goes. 
Betty. Oh dear! 

Jerry. Now wait a minute. This is the place that I 
wear the overcoat? 
Mrs. Dean. [Angrily.] Yes. 
Jerry. Good. 

Tompkins. [Calling.] Oh, Hickson, ready with your 
door slam. 

Hickson. [OS stage.] All right. 

[Tompkins goes out the rear door, shutting it. 

Betty. [Indifferently.] Business — ^bonds — door. [She 

opens the rear door. As she does so "a door slam" is 

heard off stage.] [Dramatically.] "My God! Henderson!" 

[She looks around wildly, then running to the desk, 

sits beside it and falls forward across it as though 

fainting. 

Tompkins. [Entering as Henderson looks at her, then 

rushes off, crying.] "Help! Help! Help!" 



ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 169 

[Jerry enters from the window, wearing a light over- 
coat. He sees Betty. 
Jerry. "Dora! Dora! What's happened?" 
Betty. [Rushing to him wildly.'] "Dick! Dick! Here 
are your bonds! " 

l^She puts the bonds in the pocket of Jerry's overcoat. 
Jerry puts his arms about her carelessly. 
Jerry. [In a spiritless sing-song.] "Oh Dora, you have 
saved my honour." 

[Betty pushes Jerry away from her and sits on the 
desk, her back to him. Johnny throws himself 
disgustedly in the chair at the front of the desk. 
Tompkins enters the rear door and falls in the arm- 
chair at the left. Smith collapses utterly. Rosen- 
BAUM staggers to the proscenium arch at the right, 
burying his head in his arms. Jerry, bewildered, 
walks to the door at the right. Mrs. Dean rises, 
staggers towards Rosenbaum, who has turned and 
advanced to meet her. Rosenbaum supports her in 
his arms. 
Mrs. Dean. This is awful! Awful! 
Rosenbaum. Can't you show him? 
Mrs. Dean. I'll try. Mr. Belden, stand down, please. 
See if you can get a faint glimmering by watching me. 
[Jerry, frightened by her tone, comes down, giving her a 
wide berth and in doing so stumbles into the footlight trough. 
He scrambles out and stands watching her.] Ready, 
Betty. 

Betty. [Turning around.] Oh, let Mr. Tompkins stand 
for me. I'm so tired. 
Tompkins. I can't and give the cue. 

[He goes. 
Rosenbaum. I'll do it for you, Betty. 

[Betty starts towards the right. Jerry meets her, 
Jerry. I'm awfully sorry, Betty. 
Betty. [Stamping her foot.] You didn't even try. 

[She sits in the chair near the fireplace. 



170 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 

Jerry. [Following her.] Well, I knew the words. 
[Betty turns her back to him. Jerry leans against 
the proscenium arch, utterly disconsolate. The com^ 
pany and stage hands, learning that Rosenbaum and 
Mrs. Dean are going to rehearse the scene, take 
points of vantage to see them. Miss Toby and Miss 
Farrington enter at the right. Miss Toby sits on, 
the table below the door, Miss Farrington lean- 
ing against it. Miss Donahue sits on the window- 
seat, M'GiNNis, Hickson and Steve stand at the 
back of the window. Effie, Goldman and Bil- 
lings appear in the door at the left. Smith re- 
mains seated in his chair, Johnny at the desk. 
Tompkins is in the wings at the left waiting for his 
cue to enter as Henderson. Mrs. Dean in 
Jerry's part of Dick, climbs on the window-seat, 
Rosenbaum in Betty's part of Dora, gets the 
bonds. Both of them are very serious in their in- 
tention but highly ludicrous in the result as they are 
naturally quite unfitted physically for the hero and 
the heroine of "Dora's Dilemma." Rosenbaum, 
forgetting the cigar in his mouth, imitates Betty's 
stage ''business" at the desk, then backs up towards 
the rear door. He opens it. The necessary ''cue" 
of a closing door is not heard. 

Rosenbaum. [Irritably.] Where's that door slam? 
[Hickson rushes off right. Maginnis rushes off left. 
Immediately there are two door slams heard off left 
followed by two off right. 

Rosenbaum. My God! Four Hendersons! 

[He staggers down to the table, falls into the chair, 
still imitating Betty. 

Tompkins. [Entering the rear door, sees the "situa- 
tion."] "Help! Help!" 

[The first "Help" is given loudly, the other two die 
away as Tompkins, wishing to see the scene, does 



ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 171 

not go as demanded by the "business" but remains 
in the doorway. 
Mrs. Dean. [Rushing down from the window.'] "Dora! 
Dora! What's happened?" 

RosENBAUM. [Rising, and meeting her at the centre. 1 
"Dick! Dick! Here are your bonds!" 

Mrs. Dean. [Dramatically.'] "Dora! Dora! You have 
saved my honour!" 

[Mrs. Dean clasps Rosenbaum in her arms fer- 
vently, crushing his hat over his eyes, forcing it to an 
angle of 45 degrees. Rosenbaum blindly tries with 
his left hand to find the pocket in Mrs. Dean's 
clothes in order to imitate Betty's "business" of 
placing the bonds in Jerry's overcoat. The com^ 
pany, stifling their laughter, fall out of the room. 
Smith is almost fainting with horror. Betty, stuf- 
fing her handkerchief in her mouth, rocks with mirth. 
Jerry is not so discreet, for shrieking with laugh- 
ter, he advances to Rosenbaum and Mrs. Dean, 
who at the sound of his glee have started apart. 
Jerry. You see, you forgot the overcoat altogether — oh, 
I beg your pardon, but you were so funny. 

Rosenbaum. [Angrily.] Funny! You ought to see your- 
self! 

Smith. [Rushing to Jerry.] Funny! You hold my 
play up to ridicule, kill it, and think it's funny! 

[He starts to the door at the left, 
Rosenbaum. Where are you going? 
Smith. Home. Will you do me one favour? 
Rosenbaum. What? 
Smith. Take my name off the programme. 

[He goes, slamming the door. The noise of the row 
attracts the notice of the company, who come run- 
ning back to their former positions in time to hear 
Smith's farewell speech. There is a pause. Mrs. 
Dean, at first speechless with rage, breaks into a 
fierce tirade. 



172 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 

Mrs. Dean. [Indignantly.] The base ingrate! He 
ought to be on his knees to me. To think how I've worked 
on his piffling play! I ask you all, could anybody who 
heard him read it, recognise it now? [Tearfully.] If it 
hadn't been for me, this play would never have seen New 
York. Nobody believes in it but me. I've worked myself 
into an untimely grave to give you all a season's run, and 
you're all against me. [Crying.] You're all against me, 
every last one of you! I'm just one lone woman against 
a band of pessimistic knockers. I can't stand any more! 
[She goes, sobbing. Betty rises to follow her but is 
stopped by Effie, who runs out calling ^'Matilda, 
Matilda." The company, who have all been unani- 
mous in their dislike of Mrs. Dean, have a revulsion 
of feeling now that she is apparently at the end of 
her endurance. Talking quietly and sympathetically 
everyone disappears, leaving Betty almost in tears 
and Jerry remorseful. 
Betty. Poor mother! She's utterly worn out! 
/Jerry. I never thought she'd take it so much to heart"^) 
Betty. It will just about kill her if it doesn't get over! 
jEiiRY. Oh don't, Betty, you make me feel like a dog! 

[He moves away. 
Betty. [Following him.] Why, Jerry, you're doing the 
best you can. It isn't your fault! I thought the play 
was awful when we read it, and when it didn't go on the 
road, I begged mother not to let Rosie bring it in, but she's 
mad about it. Of course, she can't see any further than 
that my part is good. Poor mother! 

Jerry. [Turning to her and taking her hands.] Look 
here, Betty, if you ever heard that I'd done something that 
was — rotten — would you love me just the same? 

Betty. But you couldn't. Besides, I'd love you what- 
ever you did! 

Jerry. You'll remember that, won't you? Promise. 
Betty. Cross my heart! [She does so.] But why are 
you so serious? 



ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 173 

Jerry. Oh, it's nothing! We'll make it up to her. 

Betty. To mother. Make up what? 

Jerry. We'll be mighty kind to her if anything happens 
to disappoint her, won't we? 

Betty. Why, of course! But you are always kind to 
her. I'll go to her now. 

[She kisses him and starts to the door. 

RosENBAUM. [Entering.'] Are you two scrapping now? 

Betty. No. Jerry's worried for fear the piece may fail. 

[She goes. 

RosENBAUM. What? Say, what's happened to you? 

Jerry. Mrs. Dean's got me going, that's all. I almost 
wish it wasn't going to fail! 

RosENBAUM. Well, you'll lose your wish. 

Jerry. Looks like a sure-fire failure, eh? 

RosENBAUM. [Smiling.'] I made arrangements today to 
invest that five thousand dollars. 

Jerry. I didn't know. You seemed so interested to- 
night. I thought perhaps you liked it. 

RosENBAUM. I can't help it. I seem to like anything 
when it gets as far as the dress rehearsal. 

Jerry. [Starting to follow Betty.] Well, I'm going to 
make a clean breast of my scheme to Betty. 

RosENBAUM. [Stopping him.] Don't speak to her, not 
before we open! She'll make a hit. That's all her mother 
wants. She'll blame the play. And just think of the 
things she'll say about the author! 

[Mrs. Dean returns, wiping her eyes, Betty and 
Effie accompanying her. Tompkins appears at the 
rear door. 

Betty. Now, mother, what do you want us to do? 

Mrs. Dean. We'll rehearse the curtain calls on this act. 

Tompkins. Everybody on stage, please. First call, 
everybody. [Mrs. Dean goes to the right and Rosenbaum 
to the left. Betty and Jerry take their positions in the 
exact centre, Jerry to the right of her. Johnny enters and 



J 



174 THE SHOW SHOP [act m 

comes to the left of Betty.] [Irritably.'] Miss Donahue, 
you're over there. 

[He pushes her into place next to Johnny, shoves 

Miss Toby next to her. Mrs. Dean is arranging 

the other end of the line. Billings gets into the 

wrong place. 

Mrs. Dean. [Impatiently to Billings.] Haven't you 

any dramatic instinct? 

[She grabs Billings and puts him next to Effie, 
then returns to the extreme right. Tompkins takes 
his place. The line-up for the "call" from left to 
right is Miss Toby, Billings, Effie, Jerry, Betty, 
Johnny, Miss Donahue, Tompkins and Miss 
Farrington. 
Tompkins. Curtain up! [He gives the signal for the 
imaginary curtain. Everybody bows and smiles.] Cur- 
tain down! [Everybody looks bored. This business is re- 
peated for all the curtain calls.] Second call — Principals. 
[All run off excepting Johnny, Effie, Jerry, Betty 
and Billings, and Tompkins, who joins Rosen- 

BAUM. 

Mrs. Dean. Mr. Billings, we said — principals/ 

Billings. Quite so. 

RosENBAUM. Get off, you're a "bit"! 

[Billings goes grumbling. 
Tompkins. Curtain up! [They repeat the bowing and 
smiling.] Down! Third call. Miss Dean, Mr. Belden and 
Brinkley. [Effie runs off quickly.] Up! [Business as 
before.] Down. Fourth. Miss Dean and Belden [Johnny 
goes.] tPp. [The same business.] Down. 
Mrs. Dean. [Proudly.] And now — Betty. 

[Jerry runs out the rear door. Betty goes up the 
centre carrying her train. She starts down stage to 
the left, dropping her train carefully. Then Betty 
stops as though surprised by a burst of applause. 
She bows. 



ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 175 

Mrs. Dean. Shrink, darling, shrink! [Betty goes up 
the stage shrinking.'] Hold out your hand. 

[Betty holds out her hand as though desirous of 

bringing someone to share her triumph. When she 

gets to the rear door, Jerry jumps on and takes her 

outstretched hand. Betty is annoyed. 

Betty. [Complainingly.] Mother! 

Mrs. Dean. [Furiously.] Get off! Get off! [Jerry 

hurries out.] Now darling, if those ushers earn their 

money, drag on the company one by one. Save Effie until 

the last. I'll show you. Oh Effie! [Betty moves away 

and watches Mrs. Dean, who, smiling sweetly, gambols 

across to the door at the right. Effie is a trifle slow in 

coming on. Mrs. Dean jerks her through the door.] Oh, 

hurry up! [She takes Effie, who is very sulky, to the 

centre, makes a deep bow to her, then putting her arm 

around Effie, turns to Betty.] See, dear, this is always 

good for another one. 

RosENBAUM. Smile, Efi&e, smile! 
Effie. Do I have to rehearse the smile? 

[She smiles stagUy, looks angrily at Mrs. Dean, then 
stalks off. 
Mrs. Dean. Now, darling, look for the author. [She 
trips around from left to right looking off in the wings for 
an imaginary author, then advancing to the footlights, 
smiles coyly at an imaginary audience.] I don't know 
where the author is. [To Betty in a business-like tone.] 
Try it, darling. 

[Betty imitates the "business** of looking for the au- 
thor and in doing so sees Rosenbaum. 
Betty. Do I look for Rosie, too? 
Mrs. Dean. [Disgustedly.] No. He'll be out in front 
applauding. And now the speech. 

Betty. [Betty, advancing to the centre, smiles very 
brightly.] I don't know where the author is. 
Mrs. Dean. [Very kittenishly .] Be coy, Betty, be coy! 
Betty. [Imitating her.] I don't know where the author 



176 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 

is. I can't make a speech, except to say that we're all very- 
happy and we've worked very hard 

RosENBAUM. Cut that out. They don't give a damn 
how hard you've worked. 

Betty. We're all very happy. [Very brightly] and I 
thank you. 

Mrs. Dean. [Tearjidly.'] Cry, Betty, cry. 

Betty. [^Crying.'] I thank you. I thank you. 

[5/fe backs up the stage bowing. 
The curtain is lowered to indicate a lapse of time. 



SCENE TWO: The First Night 

After the curtain falls there is an instant of time, then 
RosENBAUM appears in the left upper stage box of the 
theatre. He looks over its railing at the audience, 
then sits with his back to the stage mentally "counting 
the house" Mrs. Dean, following him, looks over the 
railing at the audience and then seats herself facing the 
stage. Smith comes in and, sitting between them, 
nervously crumples a programme. Rosenbaum is in 
a dinner jacket, Smith in evening clothes, Mrs. Dean 
in a wrap and over her head a scarf which she removes. 

The idea sought to be conveyed is that the curtain is ris- 
ing on the final scenes in the third act during the first 
performance of ^'Dora's Dilemma.'^ 

The curtain rises to disclose a completely furnished stage 
setting representing the library in the Robert Chap- 
man home. Effie, as Mrs. Bennett, is seated on 
the couch. Betty, as Dora Chapman, is speaking 
to her, 

Dora. But, Mrs. Bennett, has the firm missed the bonds? 

Mrs. Bennett. Not yet, but if Dick does not restore 
them by ten o'clock tomorrow morning their loss will be 
discovered, and my son will be arrested and branded as 
a thief! 

Dora. My God! But why did Dick give those securities 
to my husband? 

Mrs. Bennett. Mr. Chapman said he wanted the use of 
ten United States bonds for just twelve hours. He prom- 
ised faithfully to return them to Dick tonight. He's failed 
him again. Now Dick has gone home hoping to find them 
there. 

177 



178 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 

Dora. How did you learn all this? 

Mrs. Bennett. Dick's been anxious all the evening. 
You noticed it. I saw him come in here, followed him and 
found him ransacking that desk. Then I made him tell me. 

Dora. But why should Dick run this risk? 

Mrs. Bennett. Because of you. 

Dora. Because of me? 

Mrs. Bennett. Your husband threatened him! 

Dora. What about? 

Mrs. Bennett. A divorce suit, naming Dick as co-re- 
spondent. 

Dora. That's absurd. He knows it isn't true. 

Mrs. Bennett. The coupling of your names would be 
enough to ruin you both. 

Dora. The beast ! To think of all the wrongs and humili- 
ations that I have suffered in silence and then to threaten 
to drag me down, to ruin the man I love! Oh, I'll confess 
it. I do love your son. But you don't believe this of Dick 
and me? 

Mrs. Bennett. [Taking Dora's hands.'] No, no, I've 
suspected that my son loved you, and that you loved him. 
That's why I waited here after the others had gone, to 
implore you to save him. 

Dora. I will. I must! I'll find some way to get those 
i)onds. 

[Enter quickly Johnny, as Chapman, from the rear 
door. He wears a business suit and carries a bag. 
He stops at the sight of the women. 

Chapman. Oh, good evening. [Mrs. Bennett rises.] 
Oh, don't let me drive you away. 

[He goes down to the desk and puts the bag on the 
end of it. 

Dora. Mrs. Bennett was about to leave. Will you ring 
for Henderson? 

[Chapman pushes the button on the desk. It rings off 
, stage. 



ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 179 

Mrs. Bennett. My son has been looking for you alL 
evening. 

Chapman. [Frightened.] Is he here? 

Mrs. Bennett. No, he's gone home. 

Chapman. [Relieved.] Make my apologies. Tell him I 
was delayed unexpectedly. That I'll see him in the morn- 
ing. 

Mrs. Bennett. [Eagerly.] Early? 

Chapman. [Opening the bag.] Nine o'clock at my office. 

[Tompkins enters as Henderson. 

"^ora. Henderson, Mrs. Bennett's carriage. 
[Mrs. Bennett goes, followed by Dora. Chapman 
crosses to the window where he stands beside the 
drawn curtains looking out. Dora returns. 

Chapman. Dora, Dora, come here quickly. [Dora 
crosses in front of Chapman to the window.] Do you see 
anybody out there? 

Dora. A policeman! 

Chapman. Does he seem to be watching the house? 

Dora. No. 

Chapman. Anyone else? 

Dora. No. 

Chapman. Sure? 

Dora. Yes. 

Chapman. [Going to the desk quickly.] Dora, you've 
got to help me. 

Dora. Help you? How? 

Chapman. Someone I can trust must sail on the Mau- 
retania tonight with this. 

[He indicates the bag on the desk, 

Dora. What have you done? 

Chapman. Unless late tonight when I give the alarm 
with this [He takes a revolver out of Ms pocket] , I can 
be found here chloroformed [He takes a bottle out of his 
pocket and puts it on the desk], the safe in this desk opened, 
robbed, they can send me up. 



180 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 

Dora. Oh, Bob! Bob! 

Chapman. I was going to make a getaway, but I can't. 
The secret service men are watching me. Will you go? 

Dora. I can't. I can't! 

Chapman. You'll be all right. I'll join you as soon as I 
can. There's plenty of money in that bag, and these ten 
United States Bonds are as good as cash. Will you go 
through with this for me? 

[Dora recognises the bonds which he displays to her 
as those Dick has given Chapman. 

Dora. Yes, yes. 

Chapman. Good. 

Dora. [Falling into the chair at the desk, as though 
fainting.] Oh, oh, oh. 

Chapman. What is it? 

Dora. I feel faint — the shock — some water — downstairs 
— the dining room. [The moment Chapman goes she shows 
that the faint was pretended and stealthily rising gets the 
telephone.'] Central, central; get me 84 Bryant, quickly, 
quickly. [She waits anxiously.] Hello, 84 Bryant? Oh, 
is that you, Dick. Can you hear me? I've got your bonds. 
Come here at once, come through the garden to the library 
window! 

[As Betty is replacing the receiver, Chapman enters. 

Chapman. To whom were you telephoning? 

Dora. [Frightened, then recovering.] A wrong number 1 
[She goes slowly up to the window to open it. 

Chapman. [Watching her suspiciously.] What are you 
doing? 

Dora. It's so close in here. 

[She opens the window. 

Chapman. [Going to the desk.] Wrong number, eh? 
[Dora watches him anxiously. He picks up the telephone.] 
Central, what was that number just called from here? [Dora 
starts from the window to him.] 84 Bryant! [Dora gives 
faint cry.] Huh — I thought so. [He replaces the receiver.] 



ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 181 

What did you have to say to Bennett? Come, out with 
it! 

Dora. [Hesitatingly.] Nothing. I simply telephoned 
good-bye. 

Chapman. I wonder if you're putting up a job on me? 
Dora. Don't be absurd. I must hurry. [She starts to 
the door.] We've no time to lose. 

Chapman. You're anxious to go, aren't you? Maybe 
Bennett's waiting for you? Is he? 
Dora. Of course not. 

Chapman. What did his mother tell you tonight? 
Dora. [Hesitatingly.] What could there be to tell? 

[She comes down to the back of the desk. 
Chapman. By God, that's why you gave in! His 
mother told you about the bonds. You're going to give 
them to him. 

[He makes a rush for her. 
Dora. [Picking up the revolver from the desk.] Yes, I 
am. Give them to me. 

[She points the revolver at him across the desk. 
Chapman. [Backing away a step or two.] What? 

You 

Dora. I'm not afraid of you, I mean this. 

[Chapman opens the bag which is on the desk, takes 

out the package of United States Bonds, and throws 

them on the desk. As she reaches for them he 

jumps, grabs her wrist, gets the revolver, then takes 

the bonds forcibly from her, and puts them in the 

bag. Dora sinks on the chair at the desk. 

Chapman. I might have known I couldn't trust you, 

I'll take a chance. I'll go myself, and you'll go with 

me. 

Dora. I won't. I won't. 

Chapman. Oh yes you will, or I'll stay here and when 

Dick Bennett comes through that window [Dora 

gasps.] Oh, that's why you opened it! I'll shoot him 
dead. 



182 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 

Dora. You wouldn't dare. 

Chapman. Dare? Invading the sanctity of my home. 
It mightn't be a bad idea at that. Wonder I didn't think of 
it instead of that chloroform stunt. 

[Sitting in the chair in front of the desk, he leans over 

and opens the safe, and begins to empty it of its 

contents. 

I could plant the robbery on him. How would you like 

that for your lover? [He laughs.] You thought you had 

me beat! Me! That's funny. That's damn funny. 

[He laughs, leaning back in his chair. At the mention 
of the word ^' chloroform'^ Dora takes the bottle from 
the desk and empties it on her handkerchief. Chap- 
man roars with laughter and says ^'Damn funny," 
Dora thrusts the handkerchief over Ms mouth, grabs 
his right arm and brings it up back of the chair. 
Chapman struggles. 
Dora. You'll go? You'll stay here and be caught like 
a rat in a trap. You can disgrace me, shame me, but you 
won't make the man I love a thief I I've beaten you, do 
you hear? You beast! I've beaten you I 

[Chapman's hand falling limply on the desk presses 
the button. The bell rings off stage. Betty 
alarmed, listens, then dropping the handkerchief, 
she gets the bonds from the bag, and starts to leave 
when a door is heard to slam. 
Dora. My God! Henderson! 

[She looks wildly about, holding the bonds in front of 
her, and runs down to the chair at the desk and falls 
forward as though in a faint. 
Henderson. [Entering, sees the situation, then goes 
quickly, calling.'] Help! Help! Help! 

[Jerry, as Dick, rushes in through the window. 
Dick. Dora, Dora! what's happened! 
Dora. O Dick, here are your bonds. 
Dick. O Dora, you have saved my honour. 
Dora. He was going to run away, leave the country. I 



ACT III] THE SHOW SHOP 183 

chloroformed him. [She puts the bonds in his overcoat 
pocket,] Now, go, go. 

[A police whistle sounds faintly. 
Dick. Leave you? No. 

Dora. You must. There are the police. They'll never 
suspect me. Oh go, for God's sake go. [She pushes him 
towards the window. The police whistle is heard nearer.] 
No, no, get behind that curtain. 

[She pushes Dick behind the curtain at the window 
and starts for the door. 
Henderson. [Entering.] Oh, Ma'am, are you all right? 
Dora. Oh yes, yes. 

[Enter Billings as a Policeman. 
Policeman. What is it? 
Dora. Help me out of here. 

[Henderson leads her towards the door. Chapman 
has been coming out of his daze. 
Chapman. Stop her. She robbed me! 
Policeman. Wait! 

Dora. He doesn't know what he's saying. I'm his wife. 

[She tries to go. 
Chapman. [Rising.] Stop her. Search her. She chloro- 
formed me, robbed me. [He turns toward the window and 
sees the curtain move.] And get that man behind the cur- 
tain. 

[Dora, who is at the door, turns off the lights. Dick 
rushes out. He and the Policeman struggle 
Chapman. Turn on those lights. 

[When the lights go up Dick is discovered wearing 
the overcoat with the bonds sticking out of the 
pocket, in plain view. Dora is at the couch looking 
wildly for the overcoat. 
Chapman. Search him! 

Policeman. Put up your hands! Put up your hands! 
[Billings sees the overcoat, and the bonds. He is 
paralysed. A stage wait occurs. 



184 THE SHOW SHOP [act hi 

Mrs. Dean. [From the stage box.l Great Heavens! 
He's got on the overcoat! 

Smith. [From the stage box.'l I'll kill him! 
[Billings, Johnny, Tompkins and Betty become 
panic-stricken, losing their characterizations com- 
pletely. Jerry siuidenly realises what he has done 
but is unabashed. 
Jerry. Come on, search me. [Billings looks again at 
Jerry, then at Johnny.] Come on, you big boob, search 
me! 

[He hesitates. Jerry jumps for him, knocks him 
down. 
Betty. [Wildly.'] What will I do? What will I do? 
Jerry. Do. You'll come with me! 

[He dashes at Johnny who rushes off below the 

tormentor. Jerry then jumps on the desk, and leaps 

at Tompkins, who dodges. Then he grabs Betty 

who has fainted and jumps out of the window. 

Rosenbaum. [From the box.] Ring down. Ring down! 

Tompkins. [Riishing off below the tormentor.] Ring 

down! 

curtain 



THE FOURTH ACT 

Jerry's apartment in a Studio building in New York, — a 
simply and attractively furnished room with a door 
at the left to the bedroom and another at the back to 
the hall. There is a fireplace at the right and extend- 
ing from it into the room, its back to the spectator is 
a large couch covered with corduroy. Facing it is a 
comfortable wing chair and a table with a reading 
light. At the left is a window with a cushioned seat 
and in front of it a handsome table with writing ma- 
terials, a lamp, a rack of books and silver boxes con- 
taining Cigarettes. Behind the desk is a chair, in front 
of it a bench with a cushion of corduroy. Against the 
back wall is a Jacobean cabinet and a table with a 
lamp. Another table for newspapers and magazines 
stands at the left end of the couch. There are framed 
photographs on the walls, the mantel-piece, the tables 
and the desk, all of Betty in various poses. Bright 
sunlight is streaming through the windows. 

Walter, Jerry's man-servant, has placed the morning 
papers and the mail on the desk and is starting for the 
bedroom carrying the coat of a suit when the door 
opens and Jerry appears. 

Jerry. Good morning, Walters. What time is it? 

Walters. Eleven o'clock. [Offering Jerry his coat.] 
Will you have your coat, sir? 

Jerry. Yes. [Taking off his lounging jacket.] Did you 
get all the morning papers? 

Walters. They're on the table, sir. Mr. Rosenbaum has 
been phoning. He'll be over later. [He takes the loung- 
ing jacket and starts to go. At the door to the bedroom he 

185 



186 THE SHOW SHOP [act iv 

stops.] Beg pardon for mentioning it, sir, but I hope 
"Dora's Dilemma" was a success last night. 
Jerry. [Angrily.'] Don't talk about it. 
Walters. Oh no, sir. Thank you, sir. 

[He goes. Jerry takes a cigarette from a box on the 

table, and is getting a match, when there comes a 

knock at the door. 

Jerry. Come in. [Jerry is lighting his cigarette, his back 

to the door, and does not see Betty entering, carrying a 

suit case. She places it beside the door, then with a little 

sob comes towards Jerry, who, hearing the sound, turns 

and goes to her quickly.] Betty! Good heavens, Betty, 

what's happened? What are you doing here? Where's 

your mother? 

Betty. Oh, stop asking me questions and kiss me. 

[Jerry takes her in his arms and kisses her, 
Jerry. There! Now tell me, what's happened? 
Betty. [Surprised.] Haven't you read the papers? 
Jerry. I haven't had time. 

Betty. [Crying.] Mother will never let us get married 
now. 
Jerry. Why? 
Betty. The play's a hit. 
Jerry. [Staggered.] What! 
Betty. Look at the papers! 

[She gets a paper from a table at the end of the couch 
and hands it to him. 
Jerry. It can't be true! [Reading.] "The dramatic 
sensation of the century." 

Betty. What did I tell you? 

[She sits on the couch, her back to the spectators. 
Jerry. It can't be a success! Your mother had hys- 
terics after I bawled up that third act finish. 

[He begins to read the review. 

Betty. [Crying.] I know. She scolded me, too. I went 

home so happy. Then this morning the first paper I looked 

at said: "Not since Maude Adams took New York by storm 



ACT iv] THE SHOW SHOP 187 

has any actress won such instant favour as Bettina Dean." 
I'd like to boil that man in oil. 

[She cries again, 

Jerry. [Gloomily, from behind the newspaper.'] I was 
a hit too. 

Betty. The critics must be crazy. You were awful. 

Jerry. But you saw what they wrote about me. 

Betty. Yes, one of them said — "Where has Jerome 
Belden been? Why have we been deprived of him all these 
years?" 

Jerry. Listen to this son-of-a-gun — [Reading] "Not in 
the memory of the oldest playgoer has the New York stage 
given to us so charmingly unconventional an actor as 
Jerome Belden. Even the baldly melodramatic climax of 
the third act was handled by Mr. Belden with such utter y 
disregard of conventional method and technique. . . ." 
What's technique? 

Betty. Something you struggle all your life to get, that 
makes the public tired when you give it to them. Oh, dear! 

[She sobs. 

Jerry. Don't, Betty, don't. 

[He sits on the couch beside her his back to the audi- 
ence and takes her in his arms. 

Betty. How can those critics be so kind when they can 
be so mean? 

Jerry. Oh, maybe this is just newspaper talk. 

Betty. [Releasing herself.] Oh, I'm afraid they liked it. 
[They turn, their arms on the back of the couch, looking 
directly at the spectators.] I saw all the first-nighters ap- 
plauding. 

Jerry. Yes; the whole lodge was there. 

Betty. What lodge? 

Jerry. The Ancient Order of Grave Diggers. 

Betty. They gave us fifteen curtain calls. 

Jerry. Oh, that's just first-night stuff. 

Betty. No, if those Grave Diggers like a thing, they go 
out and rave about it. 



188 THE SHOW SHOP [act iv 

[She cries. Jerry turns and takes her in his arms, 
both again with their backs to the spectators. 
. .Jerry. Well, maybe it won't draw. 
Betty. Draw? Mother says it will run all season. 
Jerry. Some plays run in New York for two years. 
Betty. Don't, Jerry, don't. 

[She sobs, 
Jerry. Look at Monte Cristo! 
Betty. [Sobbing wildly.] And Rip Van Winkle! 
Jerry. Oh, who'd pay to see this show? 
Betty. Go call up the box-office. 

[Jerry rises and goes to the telephone on the table 
at the left of the room. Betty wipes her eyes. 
Jerry. Never thought of that. What's the number? 
Betty. 680 Bryant. Mother was 'phoning this morning. 

[She rises and follows Jerry. 
Jerry. Give me 680 Bryant. 

Betty. [Crying.] I'm the most miserable woman in the 
world. 
Jerry. Don't take it so much to heart. 
Betty. Mother says it's absurd to talk of marriage in 
the face of this success. 

Jerry. What? Busy? Call me. 

[He places the telephone on the table. 
Betty. [Despairingly.] Surely they can't be telephoning 
for seats already? 

[She sinks on the bench beside the table, Jerry gets 
a chair and brings it towards her, 
Jerry. It's a judgment. 
Betty. What do you mean? 
Jerry. Betty, I've a confession to make. 

[He hangs his head guiltily, 
Betty. [Alarmed.] Jerry, don't tell me you've learned to 
like the stage. 

Jerry. [Despairingly sitting in the chair.] No, worse 
than that. 
Betty. Nothing could be worse. Go on, tell me. 



ACT IV] THE SHOW SHOP 189 

Jerry. [In the manner of a stage confession.] You re- 
member the night Rosie made the proposition to star you? 

Betty. Yes, I'll never forget it or forgive him. 

Jerry. Don't say that! I was responsible. 

[In deep despair he bows his head in his hands. 

Betty. What? 

Jerry. Yes. I furnished the backing. 

Betty. To make me a star? Why? 

Jerry. [Seriously.'] Because I loved you. 

Betty. [Indignantly.] Well, you had a nice way of 
showing it. 

Jerry. Your mother had said it would be death to your 
career to be associated with a failure — ^well, I made up my 
mind you'd fail. 

Betty. You darling. 

Jerry. Rosie had a lot of plays in his grip. I hadn^t 
read any of them. I just picked this one out blindly, think- 
ing, of course, that I'd pick a failure. 

Betty. Oh, Jerry, why didn't you leave the choice to 
Rosie? 

Jerry. Why? 

Betty. It takes someone who knows about plays to pick 
a failure. 

[The telephone hell rings sharply, 

Jerry. [Rushing to the telephone.] Hello, 680 Bryant? 
I want a couple of seats for tonight. What? One in the 
fifteenth row. Four weeks from Monday! Oh, this is 
awful! [Betty sobs aloud.] I'll never be able to live this 
down. I'll never dare to show my face at the Club again. 

Betty. And I'll never be Mrs. Jerome Belden now. 
[Jerry in his irritation is walking up and down; he 
stumbles over Betty's suit case, and gives it a 
vicious kick. 

Jerry. What the devil's that? 

Betty. [Sniffling.] That's mine. 

Jerry. Oh, excuse me. [He picks up the suit case, puts 



190 THE SHOW SHOP [act iv 

it tenderly and puts it on the chair beside the benchJ\ 
Yours? Where are you going? 

Betty. Nowhere. I've come to stay. 

Jerry. Here? 

Betty. Yes. 

Jerry. You can't do that. I'd forgotten. You oughtn't 
to be here now. How did you get up here? 

Betty. I gave the elevator boy five dollars. 

Jerry. [Growing agitated. 1 Good Lord, did anyone 
downstairs see you? 

Betty. Yes, a lot of hall boys. 

Jerry. I'll fix them. They didn't recognise you? 

Betty. I didn't wear a veil on purpose. 

Jerry. {Very agitatedly.'] Come, Betty, you must get out 
of here. Your mother might miss you, begin to look for 
you. 

Betty. She knows I'm here. 

Jerry. What? Did you tell her? 

Betty. No, she went out early this morning, but I left 
a note. 

[Jerry frantic, takes Betty's hands and tries to draw 
her to her feet. 

Jerry. Then come on; if she finds you here, it will be 
terrible. 

Betty. [Impatiently, pidling her hands away."] I want 
her to find me here. 

Jerry. She mustn't, Betty. Oh, I can't put it into words, 
but it's impossible. This is a bachelor apartment. Don't 
you appreciate the situation? 

Betty. Perfectly, I'm trying to be compromised. This 
is our only chance. 

Jerry. Have you gone insane? I must take her to an 
alienist. 

Betty. [Indignantly."] If you loved me, you'd take me 
to a minister. 

Jerry. I will, Betty, I will, after we see your mother.. 
We played the game squarely, we won't sneak now. 



ACT IV] THE SHOW SHOP 191 

Betty. [Crying.] You don't love me any more. 

Jerry. [Taking her in his arms.'] I do, Betty, I do. I 
love you too much to let you marry me on the sly. Now, 
come on, dry your eyes, powder your nose, I'll order the 
car, we will drive to the Claremont, have some luncheon, 
then fortified, we'll call on mother, and read the riot act. 
[The telephone rings.] Hello, Mrs. Dean calling? Tell her 
I'm not in. 

Betty. [Running to him.] No — ^no. [She speaks into 
the telephone.] Ask her to come right up. [Jerry tries 
to talk into the telephone. Betty puts her hand across the 
mouthpiece.] Say one word and I'll never speak to you 
again. 

Jerry. This is going to take some explaining. 

Betty. Leave it to me. 

Jerry. Your mother has every right to be furious. Every 
right to suspect me. Every right to prevent our marriage 
now. 

Betty. Just let her try it. [There is a knock at the 
door.] Quick, Jerry. [She grabs him, throws herself into 
his arms, puts his arms around her, Jerry struggles, Betty 
holds his hinds firmly.] Come in! 

[Mrs. Dean comes in, smilingly, arrayed in a gor- 
geous gown, a fur trimmed wrap of brocade, and a 
befeathered picture hat. 

Mrs. Dean. Good morning, children. Gaze on your 
mother — "Success," Herald. 

[She sweeps across in front of them to display her, 
clothes. 

Betty. Mother, don't you see us? 

Mrs. Dean. There's nothing the matter with my eye- 
sight. 

Betty. Mother, don't you see us? I'm compromised. 

Jerry. No — no! 

lyiRS. Dean. [Graciously.] Bless my little girl. Your 
mother's here. I came as soon as I found the note. [She 
strokes the fur on the sleeve of her wrap.] Isn't it a lovely 



192 THE SHOW SHOP [act iv 

piece of fup? They say it's sable, but I believe if you 
stroked it the wrong way, it'd put up its back and spit at 
you. 

Betty. Mother, will you pay attention to us? 

Mrs. Dean. [Parading across the room.'] My dear, 
don't be selfish. Let me enjoy my glad raiment. After I 
read the papers and 'phoned to the box-office, I said, 
^'Matilda, go out and squander." 

Jerry. The hit's gone to her head. 

[He sits on the bench. 

Mrs. Dean. I went straight to the dressmaker's. He 
says, I'm a perfect 40, the rascal. [She giggles.] Betty. 
[Betty goes to Mrs. Dean, who takes her aside and whis- 
pers.] Everything underneath this is embroidered crepe, and 
I wish you could see the lilies of the valley on my corsets 1 

Betty. You look lovely. You know how glad I am that 
at last I see you looking 

Mrs. Dean. Rich and recherche. 

Betty. But it would have been more profitable and more 
to the point if instead of visiting the dressmaker's you had 
spent the time at the dramatic agencies. 

Mrs. Dean. [Majestically.] My day for bending the 
knee to the dramatic agents is over. In future, they'll 
salaam to the mother of Bettina Dean. [Betty, shaking 
her head hopelessly, joins Jerry on the bench.] I don't 
mind telling you two in strictest confidence that I'm going 
to be a power in this business. You saw what the news- 
papers said about my prediction of this play. I've always 
thought I could do a few things to Ibsen. 

Betty. [To Jerry.] Oh, it's hopeless! 

[Mrs. Dean pays no attention to him. She takes off 
her wrap and throws it over the couch on which she 
poses, then smiles in a stagey way at Jerry. 

Jerry. [Coming to her.] Mrs. Dean, this is serious. 

Mrs. Dean. [Contentedly.] What's "serious"? 

Jerry. On Saturday night Betty and I say a fond fare- 
well to Dora and her Dilemma. 



ACT iv] THE SHOW SHOP 193 

Mrs. Dean. What? Are you going mad? 
Betty. Yes, if being married is going mad. 

[She rises and goes to Jerry. 
Mrs. Dean. Married? Utteriy impossible. 

[Betty starts to talk; Jerry quiets her. 
Jerry. Let me talk, Betty. [Betty retires and sits on 
the bench by the table.] Now, Mrs. Dean, you've kept us 
apart on the plea that you wanted to see Betty on Broad- 
way. You can take a long lingering look at her for five 
more nights, and, of course, the usual matinees. 

[He sits on the bench beside Betty. 
Mrs. Dean. [Rising.'] What do you mean? 
Jerry. Sunday we're married! 
Betty. No. today; I'll take no more chances. 
Jerry. Suits me, darling. Then on Sunday we start on 
a still hunt for that farm with the chickens and the little 
calf. 

Mrs. Dean. I won't permit it. 

Jerry. Then I'm afraid we won't wait for the permit. 
[Rosenbaum bursts in. He, like Mrs. Dean, exudes 
prosperity in every line of the palpably new morning 
coat, silk hat, boutonniere and gloves. He is 
beaming. 
Rosenbaum. Well, we put it over. Didn't I always say 
it was a great play? 

Mrs. Dean. Oh, Mr. Rosenbaum, I'm so glad you've 
come. 

Rosenbaum. I'd have been here before, but I was look- 
ing over the plans for the Rosenbaum Theatre. 

Mrs. Dean. Talk to these children. I can't do anything 
with them. They're impossible. 

[She sits on the couch. 
Rosenbaum. [Going to her.] You've got to make allow- 
ances after the hit they made last night. It's the artistic 
temperament. 
Mrs. Dean. It's rank nonsense. 
Rosenbaum. It's the same thing. [He goes to Jerry 



194 THE SHOW SHOP [act iv 

and sits on the chair beside the bench.'] Jerry, didn't I always 
say it took just one fat part to make a Broadway star? 
Find out what they Hke in your personality and hand it to 
them. When you get old you keep on handing it to them 
and they think it's character acting. 

Mrs. Dean. We've no time to listen to your theories of 
acting, even if you had any. They threaten to stop acting 
altogether on Saturday night. 

RosENBAUM. [Rising.] What? 

Jerry. That's right. 

[He rises and goes to Rosenbaum. 

RosENBAUM. Never. 

Jerry. [Threateningly.] Who's going to make me act? 

Mrs. Dean. Nobody can do that, the critics notwith- 
standing. 

Rosenbaum. You don't dare quit. 

Jerry. Don't I? You forget I own this show. 

Mrs. Dean. What? You? 

[She rises. 

Jerry. Yes. I put up the money for "Dora's Dilemma." 

Mrs. Dean. [Indignantly.] Why wasn't I told? 

[She glares at Rosenbaum, who sneaks away. 

Jerry. Because I didn't want you to feel under obliga- 
tions to me. 

, Mrs. Dean. Obligations? To furnish a few paltry thou- 
sands to put my daughter where she belongs? It was a 
privilege. Nevertheless, it was very generous of you. Betty, 
why don't you thank this noble-hearted man for all he 
has done for you? 

Betty. Thank him I 

Rosenbaum. [Going to Mrs. Dean.] Listen to her, 
she's as bad as Belden. But why expect gratitude from 
actors? 

Jerry. Gratitude to you? [He goes to him furiously.] 
^. fat lot you've done for us. Where's that failure you guar- 
anteed me? 



ACT iv] THE SHOW SHOP 195 

RosENBAUM. [Handing him a check.'] Here's your $5,000. 
I don't need it. 

Mrs. Dean. What's this I hear about failure? 

[RosENBAUM moves away agaiuo 
Jerry. He promised me that it would fail. I relied on 
him. 

Mrs. Dean. So, young man, you were going to put one 
over on mother? 

Jerry. You've put it all over us. Let that satisfy you. 
But don't waste your time gloating. You'd better bend all 
your energies to finding two people to play our parts, and 
finding them quickly. 

[He picks up Betty's suit case. Betty joins him, 

and they start toward the door, Mrs. Dean rushes 

to intercept them. 

Mrs. Dean. You children don't realise what you're doing. 

You can't leave this cast. You're both necessary to the 

success of the play. 

RosENBAUM. You leave it and it won't draw a cent. 
Jerry. We don't need the money. 
RosENBAUM. What about me? 
Jerry. Oh, you! 

Mrs. Dean. What about the others? You can't stop the 
run of this play, throw all these people out of employment. 
Think of Effie and Johnnie. Would you take away their 
livelihood? Drive them back to a life of care and worry? 
You can't do that unless you're both marked with a wide 
streak of yellow. 

Betty. Jerry, I suppose we must think of the others. 

[Jerry throws down the suit case in disgust. There is 

a slight pause, then he advances on Rosenbaum in 

a fury. 

Jerry. Why didn't you tell me if this was a success I 

could not get out of it without hurting other people? You 

promised me faithfully that my acting would kill it. Why 

didn't you warn me that I was in danger of making a hit?, 



196 THE SHOW SHOP [act iv 

RosENBAUM. Oh, how did I know you had what gets 
across, whatever the damn thing is. 

Jerry. [Going to Mrs. Dean.] If I stick to this thing 

[Betty protests.} I don't say I will. I'll do it on one con- 
dition, Mrs. Dean, that you withdraw your opposition to my 
marriage with Betty. 

RosENBAUM. [Going to Jerry.] You marry Betty over 
my dead body. 

Jerry. [Shaking his fist in Rosenbaum's jaceJ] Oh, I'd 
go to the chair for you. 

[He goes and sits on the table, his back to them. 

Betty. I'll play Dora and her old Dilemma with a wed- 
ding ring or not at all. 

[She joins Jerry and sits with her back to them. 

RosENBAUM. Mrs. Dean, are you going to stand there 
and see them ruin me? 

Mrs. Dean. Ruin us? 

RosENBAUM. Who's going to pay $2 to see a man make 
love to his own wife? [He runs across.} Oh, Betty, be rea- 
sonable. I'll make a great actress of you. 

Mrs. Dean. I've done that already, Mr. Rosenbaum. 

RosENBAUM. Oh, Betty, don't do this! Stick to me! To 
show you the kind of fellow I am, I'll let you both do 
Shakespeare. 

Jerry. [Furiously, jumping off table and going to Rosen- 
baum.] Shakespeare! You've done enough for me. Don't 
you think you can put me in tights. 

Betty. I have an idea. Why couldn't we be married 
quietly? 

Rosenbaum. [Scornfully.} Quietly? What can you do in 
New York quietly? 

Betty. No one need know. 

Rosenbaum. The reporters would get it in a minute. 
There's a bunch of them downstairs now. 

Jerry. Why? 

Rosenbaum. I brought them around to interview 5rou. 

Jerry. [Going quickly to the telephone at the end of the 



ACT iv] THE SHOW SHOP 197 

desk.'] Hello, is this the office? Send those reporters up to 
Mr. Belden's room at once. Yes, at once. [Betty looks at 
Jerry bewildered, Rosie and Mrs. Dean, horrified. Jerry 
goes over to them.] Now you listen to me. I'm willing to 
think of you and Effie and Johnnie and the others. I'm 
willing to go on acting and acting and acting, to serve my 
sentence, so that you can go on producing and producing 
and producing. You can do your Shakespeare and you can 
do your Ibsen provided we can get married. Oh quietly — 
I'll keep the marriage a secret. Either you do this or I'll 
give that bunch of reporters a story of our engagement that 
will spread over the front page of every paper in this town. 
Now, it's up to you. [There is a knock at the door. He 
lowers his voice.] There they are. Now think and think 
fast. 

RosENBAUM. [Whispering.] What will we do? 

Mrs. Dean. [Whispering.] What can we do? 

Jerry. [Whispering.] Come with us. 

Mrs. Dean. [Whispering,] Where? 

Jerry. [Whispering.] To the Little Church Around the 
Corner. 

Rosenbaum. [Getting Mrs. Dean's coat from the 
couch, gives it to her, whispering.] For God's sake go, but 
go quietly. 

Jerry. [Reaching out his hand to Mrs. Dean.] Come, 
mother. 

[Betty, Mrs. Dean and Jerry start to the door at 
the left, walking on tiptoes. Rosenbaum tiptoes to 
the other door. The knocking becomes lotider. He 
motions to them to hurry and they go smilingly as 
he is about to admit the reporters, 

the end 



THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 

A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS 



THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY 

Jeffrey Fair 

Nancy Fair 

Alan Fair 

Sylvia Fair 

Peggy Gibbs 

Angelica Brice 

E. Dudley Gillette 

Nora 

Mrs. Gilbert Wells 

Mrs. Leslie Converse 

Mrs. Kellett Brown 

Mrs. Norman Wynne 

Mrs. Stuart Perrin 

The Scenes of the First and Second Acts are laid at the 
home of Jeffrey Fair on Long Island, in the months of 
May and June; the occurrences of the succeeding acts take 
place in his apartments in a New York hotel during an eve- 
ning in October. 



THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 

Original cast, as first presented at the Henry Miller Theatre, 
New York, December 22, 19 19 

It is arranged in the order in which they first appear. 

Sylvia Fair Margalo Gillmore 

Alan Fair Jack Devereaux 

Nora Betty Hall 

E. Dudley Gillette . . . Robert Strange 

Angelica Brice .... Virginia Hammond ' 

Nancy Fair ..... BLANCHE BATES 

Jeffrey Fair HENRY MILLER 

Mrs. Norman Wynne, . . Dallas Tyler 

Mrs. Kellett Brown . . Marian Lord 

Mrs. Stuart Perrin . . . Maude Allan 

Mrs. Leslie Converse . . Alice Baxter 

Mrs. Gilbert Wells . . Florence Williams 

Peggy Gibbs Kathleen Conegys 



THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 

THE FIRST ACT 

The living-room of Jeffrey Fair's home on Long Island. 
The walls are panelled and painted in soft tones; at the 
left is a fireplace, at the right a door into a hall and at 
the back three French windows opening onto a terrace 
beyond which is a vista of wooded hills. The room is 
charmingly and Itcxmously furnished, everything de- 
noting wealth and refinement, A large table with a 
lamp, writing materials, photographs, books and bowls 
of flowers is at the right. Behind it is a chair and in 
front of it a couch. Between the windows are con- 
soles and, on either side of them, smcdl chairs. In the 
corner of the room is a lacquer cabinet. There are two 
large wing chairs, one in front of the fireplace, the 
other against the left wall below the fireplace. Bowls 
and vases of flowers are in every available place, giv- 
ing a festive aspect to the room. Above the centre 
'^ndow is a floral piece fashioned of laurel and red, 
white and blue flowers, in the centre the words ''Wel- 
come Home Our Heroine," at the base red, white and 
blue ribbons fastened with a cockade and projecting 
from its upper corners are miniature flags of the 
United States, Great Britain and France. 

Sylvia Fair is coming from the garden through the sun- 
shine of a May morning. In a simple gingham dress 
with her hair hanging in a golden cloud about her 
shoulders, her arms filled with lilacs, she is a radiant 
picture of sweet, unspoiled girlhood, not at all the usual 
modern miss of eighteen. She runs up the steps and 
into the room where she flits aboui arranging the 
flowers, humming the air of a gay little song. Het 

20cr 



204 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 

task completed, she stands looking at the restdt with 
joyftd satisfaction when the voice of Alan Fair is 
heard outside in the hall. 

Alan. [Calling.'] Oh, Sylvia 1 

Sylvia. Yes, Alan. 

[Alan Fair, a fine example of American youth, comes 
in hurriedly. 

Alan. Hello, Sis. 

Sylvia. Hello, Alan! 

Alan. Mother not here yet? 

Sylvia. No. But she will be any moment. The boat 
docked an hour ago. 

Alan. Did you get in touch with Dad? 

Sylvia. Yes. Last night as soon as I received the wire- 
less. 

Alan. Why didn't you meet mother? 

Sylvia. They won't let you on the pier without an alibi 
or something. 

Alan. Hello! Give me John 6780! 

Sylvia. What are you going to do? 

Alan. 'Phone Peggy. I motored her in this morning. 
Tire went bad* She was afraid I wouldn't be here in 
time! 

Sylvia. I wonder why mother didn't cable that she had 
changed from the French Line to the Olympic? 

Alan. Oh, hello! Is this 6780 John? I'd like to speak 
to Miss Gibbs. [To Sylvia.] Say, but you're going to 
be a big surprise to mother. 

Sylvia. Yes. Two years makes a lot of difference in a 
woman. 

Alan. You! You're only a kid. 

Sylvia. Why, I'm eighteen. 

Alan. Oh, hello! Is that you, Peggy? Yes, I got here 
in time. Boat's docked. 

Sylvia. Give Peggy my love. 

Alan. Sylvia says to give you her love! That goes 



ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 205 

double for me. Oh, that's all right. I'm going to tell 

Sylvia. No, I won't say a word to anyone else. I promise. 

[Sylvia, astonished, goes to Alan and stiddenly 

reaches over, turns the transmitter towards herself 

and talks into it. 

Sylvia. Oh, Peggy, I've been hoping you were going to 

be my sister-in-law. 

Alan. [Greatly surprised.] Why, how did you know? 
Sylvia. [Taking the telephone from Alan.] Peggy, Alan 
wants to know how I knew. Isn't that funny? When did 
you say "yes"? Last night? [Alan is impatiently trying 
to take the telephone from Sylvia.] I'm so glad. Yes, 
I'm awfully excited. I can hardly wait until mother gets 
here. 

Alan. [Grabbing the telephone.] Good-bye, darlingl 
Don't get so fresh! What number do I want? You've cut 
me off. 

[Alan irritably moves receiver hook up and down. 
Sylvia laughing, takes the telephone from Alan 
and puts it on the table. Alan goes sulkUy to the 
armchair. 
Alan. How did you know I was in love with Peggy? 
Sylvia. [Coming to him.] Oh, you weren't running up 
to Connecticut every other minute since you've been de- 
mobilised to see your "buddy," even if he is as nice a one 
as Tom Gibbs. Why, the very first time I met Peggy, I 
knew. 

Alan. I didn't know it myself then. 

[He siis. 
Sylvia. [Leaning over the back of the chair.] Are you 
going to tell mother and daddy? 
Alan. Not right away. 

Sylvia. Afraid they won't like your marrying beneath 
you? 

Alan. Where do you get that stuff? 
Sylvia. Peggy is a stenographer, and you are the son of 
Jeffrey Fair. 



206 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 

Alan. Yes, and Peggy's been self-supporting and, except 
what Uncle Sam paid me, I've never earned a nickel. Mar- 
rying beneath me! I'm marrying above me. 

Sylvia. [^Sitting on the arm of the chair.'] I hope they 
think so. Of course, mother's been helping for four years 
to save the world for Democracy. I suppose that's made 
her democratic, and daddy has no use for his ancestors.. 
Still it's going to be an awful shock to everyone here. 

Alan. I should worry about shocking the neighbours. 

Sylvia. Then why keep it a secret? 

Alan. Peggy thinks it might spoil the family reunion, 
for mother if I — ^well, spring a new member on her. 

Sylvia. That's very thoughtful, very sweet of Peggy. 

Alan. Everything about her is sweet. I'm crazy about 
the whole family. They have the homiest kind of a home» 
You know, at night Mrs. Gibbs sewing and Mr. Gibbs read- 
ing his paper and a bowl of apples on the table. 

Sylvia. Of course, an apple at night would give me the 
pip but it must be lovely. 

Alan. It would be great if you liked Tom. 

Sylvia. Oh, Alan, I don't believe I could marry a po- 
liceman. 

Alan. He's not a policeman. He's a detective and the 
best pal. Sylvia, you're not going to be a rotten snob 
about a man who fought for you, side by side with your 
own brother? 

Sylvia. You know I'm not a snob. I love Peggy and 
I like Tom. But I can't marry all the men who fought 
for me. I don't want to marry anyway. All I want to do 
is get acquainted again with my mother. 

[Nora, a homemaid, enters, 

Nora. Mr. Alan, a gentleman to see you. 

[Alan takes the card, looks at it,^ 

Sylvia. Why, Nora, we can't see anyone today. 

Nora. That's what I told him. It's something to do* 
with your mother. 

Sylvia. [Going to Alan.] Who is he? 



ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 20t 

Alan. [Reading.] "E. Dudley Gillette of the Gillette 
Lecture Bureau." 

Nora. He says it's very important. 

Alan. Show him in. 

Sylvm. What can he want? 

Alan. [Reading.] "Business Representative for Tommy 
Perkins, the Flying Ace; Montague Travers, War Cor-. 
respondent." Seems to specialise in war heroes. 

Sylvl\. I'll bet he's selling tickets. 

[She sits in the armchair-, 
[Nora shows in E. Dudley Gillette, a man of thirty- 
five, of good appearance and address, but not a gen- 
tleman. His manner is over-suave, his clothes toa 
correct. 

Gillette. Good morning. Captain Fair. 

Alan. No, just plain Mr. Fair now. 

Gillette. [Bowing to Sylvia.] I hope you'll excuse this 
intrusion, [to Alan] but I have something here for Major 
Fair that was too' important to entrust to a messenger as 
I want her to receive it immediately on her arrival. 

[He takes from his pocket an envelope and hands it 
to Alan. 

Alan. Won't you sit down? 

Gillette. Thank you. 

Alan. [Indicating the envelope.] Something of a confi- 
dential nature? 

Gillette. Well, no. It's an offer to make a lecture tour 
of the country under my management. 

Alan. A what? [He opens the envelope, 

Sylvia. Mother lecture? Oh, how ghastly! 

Alan. [Reading the contract.] This wouldn't interest her. 

Gillette. Oh, I don't know. My London representative 
cabled that she would give my offer her consideration. 

Alan. That's my mother's way of being polite. 

Gillette. Possibly. Still she did go to London to see 
my man. 



208 ' THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 

Alan. You knew that mother was arriving on the Olym- 
pic? 

Gillette. Yes, that's why I am here. I wanted to be 
the first on the ground. There will be a keen competition 
for her among the lecture bureaus. 
Alan. Why? 

Gillette. The newspapers have been full of the work 
done overseas by Major Fair and her Unit; her decoration 
by the French Government, all that with her social position 

here 

Sylvia. [Indignantly. '] Why, I think it's perfectly awful 
of you or anyone else to think that our mother is going 
around the country showing off her Croix de Guerre. 

Alan, Mother has no desire to boast of her work. There 
is not the slightest use leaving this. 

l^He replaces the contracts in the envelope which he 
offers to Gillette, who rises. 
Gillette. Because her family wouldn't permit her to 
accept it? 

Alan. [Snubbing him.] My mother makes her own de- 
cisions. 

Gillette. [Very suavely.] Then why can't I leave it for 
her? 

Alan. [Coldly.] No reason. 

Gillette. Well, then 

[Alan looks at Gillette, then, turning away, places 
the envelope in the pocket of his coat. Sylvia is 
looking at Gillette. Gillette looks at her inter- 
estedly, in fact rather rudely "sizes her up." Sylvia 
is puzzled and a little embarrassed, being utterly un- 
accustomed to that kind of scrutiny. Alan turns, 
Gillette quickly assumes a suave smile. 
Gillette. Thank you. Good morning. 
Alan. Good morning. 

[Gillette goes. Sylvia rises and runs over to Alan. 
Sylvia. [Distressed — almost in tears.] Oh, Alan, mother 



ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 209 

wouldn't do it. Surely, when she's been home only once in 
four years she won't want to go away again. 
Alan. [Soothingly.] Certainly not. 

[He puts his arms around Sylvia. 
[Angelica Brice, a pretty blonde widow in the thirties, 
fragile, appealing, essentially feminine and charm- 
ingly gowned, appears at the door to the terrace, 
Angy. Hello, Sylvia. 

Alan. [Impatiently.] Oh 

[He turns away in disgust. Sylvia runs to Angy. 
Sylvia. Oh, Angy, darling. Come in. 
Angy. Oh, no. I simply wanted your mother to have this 
little welcome from her next-door neighbour. 

Sylvia. That's lovely of you. Come in and tell me if you 
think the place looks nice. 

[She takes the violets, places them in a bowl on the 
table. Angy comes into the room. She looks at the 
decorations. 
Angy. Oh, it's charming! How do you do, Alan? 
Alan. [Coldly.] How do you do, Mrs. Brice. 
Angy. Oh, it's charming. 

[She sits in the arm-chair. 
Sylvia. [Running over to her.] I'm so glad mother came 
home in May. She loves the Spring flowers. 
Angy. I suppose your father's at the dock. 
Sylvia. I hope so. I had such a time getting him last 
night at Washington. 

Angy. Oh, darling, I could have told you he'd be here 
today. I'm so glad for you that your mother's coming home 
at last. 
Alan. [Significantly.] I'm so glad for father's sake. 
[He looks meaningly at Angy, who, although thor- 
oughly understanding the implication in his speech, 
is apparently oblivious. Sylvia is wholly unaware of 
Angy's and Alan's fencing. 
Angy. He must have missed her. Hasn't it been awfully 
sporting of him never to have complained? 



210 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 

Sylvia. If it hadn^t been for you, we'd have died of lone- 
liness. I'll never forget how good you've been to me and 
daddy. 

Alan. Neither will I. You've tried your darnedest to 
take mother's place. And even if you haven't succeeded, 
you've made a corking good stab at it. 

Angy. [Ta Alan, very sweetly.] So glad you appreciate 
it. 
Alan. Why, no one in this family appreciates you as I do. 
SvLvm. [Delightedly runs to Alan.] I knew you'd like 
Angy when you understood her. 

Alan. Why, Sylvia, I've always understood Mrs. Brice. 
[He is standing, his arm about Sylvia, smiling at 
Angy, who is furious with him, although she seems 
to be unruffled. The voices of Nancy and Jeffrey 
are heard in the hall. 
Nancy. [Outside.] Oh, children! Where are you? 
Sylvia. Mother! 
Alan. It's mother! 

[They rush into the hall calling excitedly, "Mother! 
Mother!" There is a babel of excited greeting. 
Angy rises and retires to a position where she can 
watch unobserved the advent of Nancy Fair, who 
appears presently, between Sylvia and Alan, her 
arms about their shoulders. In her Overseas uni- 
form of horizon blue, Sam Browne belt, beret and 
ribbon of the Croix de Guerre, she is a vividly 
arresting figure, the personification of those American 
women brought into prominence during the war be- 
cause of their executive ability, gay courage and 
unselfish devotion. 
Nancy is overjoyed at the meeting with her children. 
She hugs and kisses Sylvia repeatedly. Alan is 
trying to attract his mother's attention and finally 
taps her affectionately on the shoulder. 
Alan. Mother, I could do with a little of that. 
Nancy. Alan! Alan! 



ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 2U 

[Ske turns to him and he takes her in his arms. She 
kisses him, puts him away from her, looks at him 
fondly, then embraces him again and again. Sylvia 
has run across to Jeffrey Fair, who has followed 
them and is watching, happily, the reunion of his 
family. He is fifty and represents the highest type 
of the American man of affairs. 
Angy, coming forward, is seen by Jeffrey. He is 
slightly startled and visibly annoyed, but controlling 
himself he bows, smilingly, then tries to attract 
Nancy's attention. 
Jeffrey. Oh, Nancy! [Nancy does not hear him. He 
raises his voice.] Oh, Nancy— — ! [Nancy turns to him. 
He indicates Angy.] This is Mrs. Brice. 

[Alan, annoyed, moves away. Nancy turns to Mrs. 
Brice, smiling, and is about to go to her, when 
Sylvia runs to Angy and, taking her by the hand, 
brings her to Nancy. 
Sylvia. Mother, this is Angy! 

Nancy. [Very cordially.] Oh, you are Sylvia's Angy. 
The child's letters have been full of you. You've been so 
kind to my little girl. 

Angy. [Very sweetly.] Sylvia and her father have been 
very kind to me. I hadn't meant to intrude. 
Sylvia. Oh, mother, Angy brought these. 

\_She picks up the bowl of violets, shows them to 
Nancy, who exclaims at the sight of them, 
Nancy. Oh, how sweet of you! 
Angy. I must go. Good-bye, Sylvia. 

[She starts toward the door to the terrace, 
Nancy. You'll come again very soon, won't you? 
Angy. Oh, I'll be sure to! [She smiles very sweetly at 
Nancy, turns, looks at Jeffrey, waves her hand airily.] 
Bye-bye, Jeffie! 

[She goes, 
[A slight pause. Nancy is surprised, amused, Jeffrey 
annoyed, confused. 



212 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 

Nancy. [Imitating Angy.] "Jeffie" [Very inno- 
cently.] Darling, have you been carrying on a little bit? 

Jeffrey. Certainly not. [Nancy laughs. Alan is 
amused. Sylvia oblivious. Jeffrey, embarrassed, pre- 
tends to search for something on the table.] Damn it all, 
you never can find a match in this house 1 

Sylvlv. Here they are. You never look. 

[Jeffrey goes to Sylvl\, who gives him a match. 
Nancy laughs. She looks about her. 

Nancy. Well, Alan, some swell dugout. 

Sylvia. Daddy, listen to mother talking slang. 

Alan. Get our decorations? 

Nancy. Bless your hearts! They are lovely! 

Sylvia. Our decorations! / did it all. 

Nancy. Sylvia, that placard's going it a bit strong. Your 
mother isn't a heroine. 

Sylvia. [Expostulating.] Aren't you a Major, and deco- 
rated, and everything? 

Nancy. [With mock seriousness.] 'N everything! 

Sylvia. Mother, when you were given the Croix de 
Guerre, did the General kiss you on both cheeks? 

[Jeffrey advances towards them. 

Nancy. Ask me some other time, darling; your father is 
listening. 

Jeffrey. If he didn't, he was a poor fish! 

[Nancy blows him a kiss. 

Sylvia. Poor daddy When I think how you slaved in 
that old Quartermaster's Department, I don't see why they 
didn't decorate you. 

Jeffrey. They don't pin any medals on you for trying to 
save the people's money. 

Nancy. [Looking about her.] Is all this magnificence 
mine? 

Jeffrey. Are you referring to me? 

Alan. No. She means me. 

Nancy. I mean Sylvia. Gracious, child, what have you 



ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 213 

been taking to make you grow? Jeff, isn't she the prettiest 
daughter that ever was? 

Jeffrey. Look at her father. 

Nancy. Oh, you! Alan, you look simply scrumptious I 

Jeffrey. [Sitting in the arm-chair.] What about me? 

Nancy. You! You haven't pined away for me at all. 
I'm frightfully disappointed. 

Sylvia. Oh, mother! Why? 

Nancy. He should be pale and wan, and look at him! 
He's fat, positively fat! 

Jeffrey. [Indignantly.] I am not fat. 

Sylvia. He's not, 

Nancy. [Laughing.] Alan, we'll have to take him in 
hand. You know [illustrating] fifty times before breakfast. 

Alan. [Laughs.] Too late. 

[He sits on the couch, 

Sylvia. You two stop picking on my daddy. I think he's 
perfectly grand. 

Nancy. He has me hypnotised just that same way, dar- 
ling. 

Alan. Yes. Taken by and large, he's not a bad old scout. 

Jeffrey. Here, son, my wife has been mingling with the 
flower of the youth of both hemispheres, so cut that old. 
[Nancy goes to Jeffrey, sits on the arm of his chair 
and hugs him. 

Nancy. None of them so nice as you. 

Jeffrey. Sure? 

Nancy. Well, pretty sure. 

Sylvia. Oh, mother, you look so young. 

Nancy. Nobody ever had a nicer daughter. 

Alan. They've got to go some to tie you, mother — eh, 
Dad? 

Jeffrey. I'll say it. 

Nancy. Such compliments from my family! You're not 
getting me in a good humour so that you can spring some- 
thing on me? 

Alan. How does it seem to be home, mother? o 



214 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 

Nancy. If Sylvia won't be shocked by my language, I'll 
confess I'm having a pippin of a time I 

[Jeffrey puts his arm around her, 
Alan. You are going to find it awfully flat. 

[Nancy is smiling. Her expression changes. She looks 
at Alan curiously. Sylvia turns. Jeffrey leans 
forward in his chair. They also look in surprise at 
Alan. 
Nancy. What do you mean? 

Jeffrey. [Indignantly.] Yes, I'd like to know what he 
means. 

Sylvia. Alan! The idea! She didn't find it flat when 
she was here the last time. 

Alan. Mother was busy getting money for her Unit, and 
she was going back. Take it from me. I've been through it. 
You're going to miss the something — I don't know what it 
is — but life over there gets you. You know that, mother. 
You'll find yourself thinking more about the people you left 
over there than your old friends here. 

[Nancy rises and moves toward Sylvia. She is think- 
ing. The others watch her closely. Seeing that 
Sylvia is looking at her anxiously, she smiles and 
goes to her. 
Nancy. What are you worrying about, dear? 
Sylvia. You won't get bored at home, will you, mother? 
Jeffrey. Sylvia, don't i>ay any attention to this young 
kill- joy. [He rises and advances on Alan.] What the 
devil is the matter with you? 

[He glares in indignation at Alan, who rises and 
goes to the door to the terrace. Sylvia, even with 
her mother's arms around her, is still unconvinced, 
Sylvia. But you won't get bored, will you? 
Nancy. No. No. No. You silly little goose! 

[She has taken Sylvia's jace in her hands, kissing 
her after each "No'' and at the end of the speech, 
then, taking her over to the arm-chair, swings her 
onto the arm of the chair, where Sylvia perches, all 



ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 215 

smiles again, her arm around Nancy, who is seated. 
Jeffrey is sitting on the couch, looking at them and 
smiling happily. 
Jeffrey. It's good to see you over there, Nancy. We 
missed you — eh, Sylvia? 

Sylvia. You missed us, didn't you, mother? 

Alan. When she had the time to think about you. But 

you never had the time 

Jeffrey. Say, will you let your mother speak for herself? 
Alan. Just the same, I'm right, aren't I, mother? 
Nancy. Perhaps — in a way. But I had lots of time to be 
lonesome for all of you. 

[She looks lovingly at Jeffrey. 
[Nora comes in, bringing a tray. 
Nancy. Well, if it isn't Nora! I am glad to see you, 

[^She rises, greeting Nora warmly. 
Nora. It's glad I am to see you, Mrs. Fair, safe and 
sound out of them trenches! 

[Nancy moves toward the tray and begins to examine 
its contents. Jeffrey and Sylvia join Alan. They 
stand watching her, much amused. 
Nancy. What's this? 

Nora. Luncheon's a couple of hours off and cook thought 
you might like a snack. 

Nancy. Don't tell me it's honest-to-God American boiled 
coffee? And sugar! And butter! And real cream from a 
cow! I simply can't bear it! 
Nora. It's starved you've been by them Paris chefs! 
Nancy. You've said it, Nora. Give cook a kiss. How 
are all the others? 

Nora. Oh, fine, and waiting in the kitchen to welcome 
you. 

Nancy. I'll be there very soon. 

Nora. Oh, Mrs. Fair, take no notice of William if he's 
kinda short with you. He's that annoyed; he didn't know 
you were coming. He was for having a triumphal arch 
over the front door. 



216 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 

Nancy. I won't. 

[They laugh. Nora goes. Nancy sits on the couch. 
Sylvia brings a chair and sits beside her. 

Sylvia. Now, mother, tell us everything. 

Jeffrey. Oh, let your mother drink her coffee. WeVe all 
the rest of our lives to hear about it. 

Alan. Oh, mother, they won't understand. You can't 
talk about it. 

Sylvia. What? 

Jeffrey. [Guyingly.] You've done nothing else since 
you've been home. [Tenderly.] But you've always had 
one proud listener, son. 

Alan. [Shyly.] Dad I 

Nancy. And here's another! Come over here this instant 
and kiss your proud mother. 

Alan. Oh, mother! 

Nancy. This instant minute. 

Jeffrey. Captain Fair, the Major is talking to you. 
[Alan snaps to a salute. Nancy jumps to her feet, 
returns it. They laugh. Alan kisses Nancy and 
she sits on the couch with Alan and Sylvia beside 
her. Jeffrey, in the arm-chair, looks fondly at the 
group. 

Alan. Say, we're going to have some great talks! 

Nancy. We're going to fight this old war right from the 
beginning! 

Jeffrey. Sylvia, it's going to be great to hear just what 
Foch should have done. 

Sylvia. You don't need to think you're going to sneak off 
by yourselves. 

Nancy. You can trail right along, darling. Well, Alan, 
I suppose you can't wait to get back to Yale. 

Jeffrey. He's not going back. 

Nancy. What? 

Alan. I'm going in for mining. 

Nancy. Going to be a horny-handed son of toil with a 
little lamp in your hat and everything. Now, I'm only 



ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 217 

teasing. Bless your heart, you do what you want to do. 
You would, anyway. [To Sylvia.] How are Biddy Wynne 
and all my girls? 

Sylvia. Oh, fine. They're coming over later. 

Jeffrey. [Annoyed.] Today? 

Sylvia. Yes. I 'phoned them last night. I knew mother's 
Unit would want to welcome her home. 

Nancy. Quite right, dear. I'm crazy to see them. 

Jeffrey. [Grumbling.] I think people might let us have 
you to ourselves the first day. 

Nancy. [Changing the subject.] Now, Sylvia, tell me all 
the news, and I wouldn't mind a little gossip. 

Sylvia. The Wellington-Smiths have a new baby. 

Nancy. So? Who's been divorced? 

Sylvia. Not a soul. 

Nancy. What? 

Alan. Yes, this war has done that for the country. Fight- 
ing in France has given a lot of husbands a rest from battles 
at home. 

Jeffrey. Old stuff, Alan. Possibly gave the wives a rest, 
too. 

Nancy. Thank you, Jeffrey. Sylvia, no matter how many 
times you marry, always select a gentleman like your father. 
Who is this Angy Brice? 

Alan. Oh, mother, just as we were all so happy! 

Sylvia. Why, I wrote to you about her. 

Nancy. Yes, darling, I know your Mrs. Brice. [Mean- 
ingly.] I want to know Jeff's Mrs. Brice. 

Jeffrey. [Irritably.] She's not my Mrs. Brice. 

Nancy. Why, Jeffrey, don't you want to tell me about 
your little playmate? 

Jeffrey. [Casually.] Of course. She's a little widow 
who lives next door. Wasn't she here when you came over 
last time? 

Nancy. No 

Sylvia. Daddy, don't you remember we met her just after 
mother sailed? 



218 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 

Jeffrey. [Indifferently.] Oh, yes, I believe we did. I'd 
forgotten. She's a charming woman. 

Nancy. Uhmm. 

Jeffrey. Took a great shine to Sylvia. 

Nancy. Oh, I think she likes you, too. 

Sylvia. She's devoted to us. We've seen her every day. 
We three had great times. Motor rides, picnics 

Nancy. Just a moment, Sylvia. Did I hear correctly? 
Your father on a picnic? 

Jeffrey. Sylvia liked them. 

Nancy. Oh, I hope Angy did, too. Alan, don't you like 
picnics? 

Sylvia. Alan! Oh, he hasn't been here. 

Nancy. Where have you been? Now, Alan, 'fess up. 
Who is she? 

[Alan is embarrassed, conjused. Sylvia enjoys it for 
a moment, then comes to his rescue. 

Sylvia. Alan has been visiting his "buddy." 

Nancy. Oh! 

[Alan looks gratefully at Sylvia. 

Sylvia. So you see, mother, I had to depend on Angy. 
I Red Crossed with her in town. 

Nancy. Rather a fag, going to New York, wasn't it? 

Sylvia. Oh, daddy drove us in and out. Sometimes we 
dined on the way home, and when I was too tired I let 
Daddy and Angy dine together. They didn't mind. 

Nancy. [Quizzically.] No? 

Sylvia. Wasn't it sweet of them? 

Nancy. That was thoughtful. What made you tired, 
dear? 

Jeffrey. [Irritably.] Oh, the heat and one thing and 
another. But let us drop Mrs. Brice. 

Nancy. Oh, my dear, I couldn't. What would people say 
when she has been so kind to you? I am going to be very 
nice to her. 

[Nora enters, 

Nora. Oh, Mr. Alan, Mr. Gillette has just telephoned. 



ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 219 

Alan. Yes? 

Nora. I told him you couldn't be disturbed and he asked 
me to remind you about the contract he left for Mrs. Fair. 
[She takes the tray and goes. Alan and Sylvia 
exchange glances. 

Nancy. Contract? What contract? 

Alan. Oh, it's nothing you need bother about now, 
mother. 

Sylvia. It can wait. 

Nancy. [Rising.] Children, I am dying of curiosity. 

Alan. Honestly, it's of no importance. 

Jeffrey. Your mother is the best judge of that. Give it 
to her. 

Alan. [Giving Nancy the envelope.] Oh, all right. [To 
Jeffrey.] It's a contract for a lecture tour. 

Jeffrey. A wha — a lecture tour! Oh, this is immense! 
[Jeffrey shrieks with laughter. Nancy, who has been 
reading the contract , goes toward him. 

Nancy. Well, Mr. Jeffrey Fair, there is nothing funny 
about the money he offers me. Alan, what's a hundred times 
$300? 

Alan. $30,000. 

Nancy. Help! 

Jeffrey. Oh, it's a fake. 

Sylvia. [Rising.] Mother, you couldn't lecture. You 
don't know how. 

Nancy. Oh, don't I, miss? I gave a little talk one night 
to the boys on the boat and they assured me that I was 
a riot. 

Jeffrey. What did you talk about? 

Nancy. My experiences. 

Sylvia. Did you like doing it? 

Nancy. It was rather fun. Of course, if I did it here 
it wouldn't be for money. 

Jeffrey. But, Nancy, you're not going to do it here. 

Alan. That contract calls for a Coast-to-Coast tour. 

Nancy. I've never been to California. 



220 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 

Jeffrey. Why, you haven't been home for more than 
twenty minutes. You're surely not contemplating going 
away again? [Nancy is silent.] Nancy, what are you 
thinking about? 

Nancy. I was just thinking that $30,000 would do a lot 
of reconstructing 

Alan. She's back in France. What did I tell you? 

Jeffrey. [Rising.] This home could do with a little 
"reconstructing." 

Nancy. [Meaningly.] Oh, come now, Jeff! After what 
I've seen and heard today, you can't tell me that you really 
need anything. 

Sylvia. We need you, mother, awfully. 

[She goes to Nancy. 

Nancy. [Kissing her.] Well, my lamb, you are going to 
have me. 

Jeffrey. The question is, for how long? 

Nancy. It's a wise wife who keeps her husband guessing. 
Come along, Sylvia, and watch mother get the glad hand 
from the help. 

[Sylvia laughs as they leave the room with their arms 
about each other. 

Alan. I could choke Nora. I was going to hide that 
contract. 

Jeffrey. Oh, this Gillette individual would have got to 
her sooner or later. [There is a slight pause.] Alan, I 
don't want you to misunderstand about Mrs, Brice. 

Alan. I don't on your end of it. But she's after you, 
Dad. 

Jeffrey. Maybe. But that'll be finished. As a matter 
of fact, I didn't mean to go it so strong. Lonely. 

Alan. Oh, Hell ! I know, I know. 

Jeffrey. Do you think there's been any talk? 

Alan. You can bet your life not where I could hear it. 

Jeffrey, Alan, you're a great old son. 

Alan. You're some dad! [A pause.] Say, dad, do you 
mind if I say something to you? 



ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 221 

Jeffrey. If you have some advice up your sleeve, shake 
it out. 

Alan. Kind of fresh, me advising you. 

Jeffrey. You've seen things. You're not a kid any 
longer. You fought for me. It seems to me that gives 
you the right to speak your mind. 

Alan. You know, mother is the greatest 

[Jeffrey has started to say "greatest ever" also. He 
stops. 

Jefirey. If you are going to do this as a duet, let's get 
together. 

Alan and Jeffrey. Mother is the greatest ever. 

Jeffrey. That's unanimous. Now, fire away! 

Alan. Mother made a whale of a hit in France. 

Jeffrey. Yes, I know. If she wanted to she could call 
Pershing "J^ck," and Haig ''Doug." 

Alan. Not forgetting ''Ferdie" Foch. [They laugh. 

Over here, they are going to be there strong with the palaver. 

Jeffrey. Yes, I expect that. 

Alan. Mother's going to fall for it. 

Jeffrey. Yes, I've discounted that, too. 

Alan. Have you discounted the effect on her when it's 
all over? 

Jeffrey. I hadn't gotten as far as that. 

Alan. Take a running jump and arrive there. 

Jeffrey. Humm. 

Alan. You've got to heel yourself for the day when 
mother takes a look around and says: "France never was 
like this." 

Jeffrey. Humm. 

Alan. And when that cold grey morning arrives, don't be 
too busy to make life very damned interesting for mother. 

Jeffrey. That's a pretty tall order for a man without any 
gold lace on his chest, but I'll do my damnedest. 

Alan. And if I see the symptoms coming, having been 
through it myself, I'll give you the high sign. 

Jeffrey. Do. Have a cigarette? 



222 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 

Alan. Thanks. 

[They go out to the terrace , stopping to light their 
cigarettes, they go down the steps into the garden. 
Nora appears, showing in Mrs. Wynne. 
Nora. I'll tell Mrs. Fair you're here. 
Mrs. Wynne. Thank you, Nora. 

[Nora goes. 

[From the hall, arm in arm like three musketeers, come 

Mrs. Brown, Mrs. Perrin and Mrs. Converse. 

These women, including Mrs. Wynne, are members 

of the Unit which has served with Nancy in France. 

They are of contrasting types; all of them in their 

thirties; they wear uniforms similar to that of Nancy. 

Mrs. Brown, Mrs. Perrin and Mrs. Converse are 

gay, excited; Mrs. Wynne is rather tearful. 

Mrs. Brown. I'm so excited. I can hardly wait to see 

Nancy. 

Mrs. Perrin. Soft pedal on that, Lila, when your hubby's 
around. 

[She sits on the couch. 
Mrs. Brown. Look at Biddy! Biddy, you poor old fish, 
wake up; your buddy's home. 

Mrs. Wynne. [Tearfully.] I can't seem to realise it. 
Mrs. Converse. Cut out the sob stuff, darling. 

[She sits beside Mrs. Perrin. Their laughter is inter- 
rupted by the appearance of the remaining member 
of the Unit, Mrs. Wells, a woman of dominating 
personality, about fifty years of age; she also is in 
uniform, and carries a large and very elaborate 
bouquet. 
Mrs. Brown. Get Wellsie! 

Mrs. Wells. Now, girls, after the salute — and for good- 
ness' sake get some snap in it — you advance, Bridget, and 
present the bouquet to Major Fair. 

Mrs. Wynne. [Protesting.] Why is this presentation 
stuff wished on me? 
Mrs. Wells. Weren't you Nancy's buddy? 



ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 223 

Mrs. Wynne. [Sarcastically.] I never handed her any 
bouquets. 

Mrs. Brown. Now's your chance. 

[She sits on the arm-chair. 

Mrs. Wynne. {Scornjtdly.] It seems such a damn silly 
thing to do. 

Mrs. Converse. It is kind of sissy. 

Mrs. Wells. [Indignantly.] I think it's a sweet idea. 

Mrs. Wynne. How in blazes can I salute and hand her a 
bouquet at the same time? 

[She salutes with her right hand, presenting the bouquet 
with her left. It is obviously awkward, 

Mrs. Perrin. I have an idea. 

Mrs. Converse. [Guyingly.] No! 

Mrs. Wells. Impossible! 

Mrs. Wynne. Really! 

Mrs. Perrin. [Going to Mrs. Brown.] Why couldn't 
you hold it at your side like a sword and draw it — see? 

Mrs. Wynne. [Disgusted.] Oh! You poor simp! 

Mrs. Converse. Oh, Lila, awful! 

Mrs. Brown. Terrible! 

Mrs. Perrin. Oh, if any of you had thought of it! 

Mrs. Wells. [Witheringly.] Throw the old thing out 
the window. I don't care. 

[She sits beside Mrs. Converse on the couch. 

Mrs. Wynne. I was the goat of this Unit for four years. 

Mrs. Brown. [Teasingly.] Well, won't you be our Httle 
nanny for one more day? 

Mrs. Converse. [Innocently.] What are you going to 
say, darling, when you give it to her? 

Mrs. Wells. [Casually.] A few graceful words of wel- 
come. 

Mrs. Wynne. [Furiously.] I haven't got to make a 
speech? 

Mrs. Perrin. Why, sweetie, you can't just shove it at 
her. 



224 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 

Mrs. Wynne. Here, Wellsie, take your pretty posies. 
I'm going home. 

[She throws the bouquet on the couch where Mrs. 

Wells is seated ^ then starts to go. Mrs. Perrin 

stops her J bringing her over to Mrs. Brov/n. They 

expostulate with her. 

Mrs. Perrin. Why, Bridget 1 Nancy would be sick if 

you weren't here. 

Mrs. Wynne. No, I've stood enough. No, I tell you it's 
''finis." 

Mrs. Wells. I seem to be the one at fault. I'll go. 

\_She starts to the door. Mrs. Converse stops her. 
Mrs. Converse. Oh, Wellsie, what's the matter with you? 
Behave! It's like old times, hearing you two scrap. 
Nancy. {Outside.'] Hurry up, Sylvia. 
Mrs. Brown. [Joyously.'] She's coming! 
Mrs. Wells. [In great excitement.] Fall in, Wynne here. 
Then Brown. Converse next. [She turns in irritation to 
Mrs. Converse, who has started to the door.] Converse! 
[Mrs. Converse runs to Mrs. Wells, who grabs her and 
places her next to Mrs. Brov^n.] Perrin! [She shoves 
Mrs. Perrin into place next to Mrs. Converse, then takes 
her own position at the end of the line. The women "dress** 
to a perfect formation.] Attention! 

[Nancy rushes in, followed by Sylvia. 
Nancy. Oh, girls! 
Mrs. Wells. Salute! 

[All the women snap to a salute, which is returned by 

Nancy. Mrs. Wynne takes two paces forward in 

military manner and salutes again. Nancy returns 

it. 

Mrs. Wynne. Major Fair, in the name of your Unit, I 

wish to extend Oh, Buddy! Buddy! 

[She breaks down and, rushing to Nancy, throws her 
arms about her. They embrace wildly. 
Nancy. Biddy! Biddy! My dear old Biddy! Oh, 



ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 225 

Billy Brown! And Mary Anne! Oh, Lila! and Wellsie, 
old girl! Oh, this is wonderful! 

[She embraces them all in turn. They are laughing, 
crying, in hysterical joy over their reunion. Sylvia^. 
who has been watching them, is much affected. 

Mrs. Perrin. [Tearfully.'] Hello, Sylvia. 

Sylvia. [Tearfully.'] Hello. 

Mrs. Converse. [Tearjully.] Oh, Sylvia! Isn't it won- 
derful, having mother home? 

Sylvia. [Crying.] Wonderful. 

Mrs. Wynne. [Suddenly seeing the bouquet on the 
couch.'] Oh, damn it all, I forgot the bouquet! 

[She picks up the bouquet and gives it to Nancy, who 
laughs. 

Mrs. Brov^n. Everybody cried all they're going to? 

Mrs. Converse. Well, Nancy, spill us the news. 

Nancy. What do you want to know? 

Mrs. Perrin. How's Clementine? 

Nancy. Splendid. Sent all of you her dearest love. 

Mrs. Converse. Was there ever a cook like Clementine! 

Mrs. Perrin. Never. ! 

Nancy. You know that tin Lizzie she used to drive? 
"Ma chere Lizette." I gave her "Lizette" and four new 
tires. I marked it on my report "abandoned." 

Mrs. Wells. What will she do with it? 

Nancy. I suppose she'll move the pig out of the parlor. 

Oh, God love her, how I hated to say good-bye! I hope the 

people at the Gare du Nord wore rubbers. We wept buckets! 

[The women are seated, clustered about Nancy, 

Sylvia stands beside her. 

Mrs. Converse. My, doesn't it bring it all back! 

Mrs. Wells. Yes, if somebody would only drop a bomb 
I'd feel perfectly at home. 

Mrs. Brown. Speaking of bombs — remember Coucy? 

Mrs. Perrin. Oh, Billy, don't. 

Mrs. Wynne. [To Nancy.] Buddy, I'll always remem- 



1226 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 

ber you driving that first ambulance down the road with 
those Jerrys overhead, shooting at you. 

Sylvia. Oh, mother, how could you? 

Nancy. Thank heaven, the Boche who followed me 
couldn't hit anything smaller than the Hippodrome. 

Mrs. Brown. That's why they decorated your mother — 
for that and a few such trifles. 

Sylvia. Did they only give her one measly little Croix 
de Guerre for that? Why, they ought to have hung medals 
all over her! 

Nancy. Oh, girls, I have a lovely letter from Poincare 
and a screed from Petain, thanking us for our four years' 
work with the French Army. 

Mrs. Converse. Some Unit! 

Mrs. Perrin. I'll say it was. 

Mrs. Brown. Not so worse. 

Mrs. Wells. We'll frame those letters and hang them in 
the club. 

Mrs. Brown. Yes. In the smoking-room, where all the 
^omen will be sure to see it. 

Nancy. [Giving Sylvia the bouquet.] Oh, Sylvia, will 
you put these in my room? Then look in my despatch box. 
Here are the keys. Bring those kodaks. I had them fin- 
ished at last. 

[She gives the keys to Sylvia, who runs out. 

Nancy. Now, girls, tell me and tell me true: How does 
it feel to be at home? [There is silence.] Don't everybody 
shriek with joy at once! 

Mrs. Wynne. Seems to me I've been home a million 
.years. 

Mrs. Perrin. After a couple of days with my kiddies, I 
sighed for the peace and quiet of an air raid. 

Mrs. Brown. You're in luck to have them. I've been 
driven to card-indexing my hens! 

Mrs. Converse. I wish you'd come over and card-index 
my Swede! 

Mrs. Wells. I must confess that after I had kissed my 



ACT i] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 22T 

old man and all the grandchildren, they looked sort of 
strange to me. 

Nancy. Girls, this sounds awful! Possibly Alan was 
right. He said I would find it flat. 

Mrs. Wynne. After being on the hop, skip and jump for 
four years, it's the very devil to sit around "Bla." 

Mrs. Perrin. Have you any plans? 

Nancy. I had thought of buying all the clothes in New 
York, seeing all the shows, playing around with my f am- 
ily . . . 

Mrs. Converse. We've done all that. And then what? 

Nancy. Why, eh 

Mrs. Perrin. Exactly. "Why, eh " 

Mrs. Brown. You see, Nancy, now we have time ta 
bum and no matches. 

Nancy. What are all the other war workers doing? 

Mrs. Brown. Kicking about being demobilised. 

Nancy. It's a burning shame that Washington couldn't 
have used all this organised talent. 

Mrs. Wells. Oh, what could you expect from Congress? 

Sylvia. [Entering.] Here are the photographs! Oh, 
mother, there are a lot of reporters here to see you. 

Nancy. Where? 

Sylvia. On the front door step. 

Nancy. [Rises quickly.] Goodness, child! Run and ask 
your father for some of his best cigars. 

[Sylvia runs into the garden, calling *' Daddy." The 
women have risen excitedly at the news of the re- 
porters* arrival. They are congregated about the 
table, examining the photographs, selecting those 
they think most suitable for publication. Nancy is 
adjusting her uniform. 

Nancy. My hair's a sight. 

Mrs. Wells. You look lovely. 

Mrs. Wynne. I'd give them these, Nancy; they're bully 
of you. 



228 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i 

Nancy. I don't think I want any photographs. Jeff 
mightn't like it. 

Mrs. Converse. If you don't, they are sure to dig up 
some horror. 

Nancy. Well, give me some of the bunch. 

Mrs. Brown. Nancy, where's your Croix de Who's 
Whoser? 

Nancy. Would you wear it? 

Mrs. Perrin. Certainly. 

[Nancy is pinning on the Croix de Guerre as Sylvia, 
Jeffrey and Alan appear from the terrace. 

Jeffrey. Hello. 

All. Hello, Jeff. 

Jeffrey. Which one of you girls wants a cigar? 

Nancy. They're for the reporters. 

Jeffrey. What reporters? 

Nancy. From New York. Come on, girls. 

Jeffrey. You're not going to see them? 

Alan. {Whispering.^ Careful, Dad. 

Nancy. Not if you don't wish it. 

Jeffrey. Well, all right. 

Mrs. Wells. Hurry up, dear, before he changes his mind. 
[The women surround Nancy and leave the room, 
Sylvia in the lead. They are laughing and talking. 
Jeffrey stands watching them, bewildered. 

Jeffrey. My wife! Can you beat it? 

Alan. That's not your wife. Dad; that's Major Fair. 

curtain 



THE SECOND ACT 

The scene is the same as that of the previous act. It is an 
afternoon in June. 

Mrs. Brown, Mrs. Wells, Mrs. Converse, Mrs. Wynne 
and Mrs. Perrin and Gillette are seated, all of them 
engrossed in the afternoon editions of the New York 
newspapers. The women, in contrast to the uniforms 
of the first act, are now wearing very charming after- 
noon gowns. 

Mrs. Wells. This reporter knows what he's talking 
about. 

Mrs. Converse. Nancy's lecture sure made a hit last 
night. 

Mrs. Brown. A hitl Listen to this: [Reading.] "An- 
other Platform Star. Major Fair Wins an Ovation. Thrills 
Her Audience." 

Gillette. I should say she did. I've managed a great 
many lecturers, but I have never seen so successful a first 
appearance. 

Mrs. Wynne. Did you hear what Angy Brice said last 
night? 

Mrs. Converse. No. 

Mrs. Wynne. [Imitating Angy's manner.] Nancy's ax:- 
count of our work overseas made her quite envious that she 
had never been one of the Thank-God-For-The- War- Women. 

Mrs. Converse. Kitty, kitty, kitty. 

Mrs. Brown. Meow I Meow I 

Mrs. Perrin. Oh, Mr. Gillette, is Mrs. Fair going to 
sign that contract with you? 

Gillette. I hope so. You all might help me to persuade 
her. 

229 



230 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 

Mrs. Wells. When do you want her to go? 

Gillette. In July. 

Mrs. Brown. Isn't that too early? 

Gillette. The coast is full of tourists then; besides, I 
want her to go out and get the money before the people 
forget that there has been a war. 

Mrs. Wynne. But she's only been home a month. 

Mrs. Perrin. A month! Isn't that punishment enough? 
[From the hall come Nancy and Sylvia, both of them 
in pretty summer frocks. Nancy has in her hand 
the contract offered her by Gillette and has evi- 
dently been considering it. 

Nancy. Hello, girls. 

Everybody. Hello, Nancy; hello, Sylvia. 

Nancy. Mr. Gillette, there's a photographer outside who 
wants to see me. 

Gillette. It's the man to take the photographs for that 
Syndicate story. 

Nancy. Which one? 

Gillette. "A Day in the Life of Major Fair." It's to 
show your domestic side. 

Nancy. Oh, I don't know. Girls, don't you think it's 
rather intimate? 

Mrs. Perrin. Not at all. 

Mrs. Converse. Go on, Nancy; be a sport. 

Sylvia. [Going to him.] Mr. Gillette, what photographs 
are you gomg to take? 

Gillette. Major Fair with her morning's mail. 

Nancy. Can't you use that one at my desk that was 
published? 

Gillette. That'll be fine. Then one in the garden. 

Nancy. [Satirically.] Another on my knees to the cook. 

Gillette. [Enthtisiastically.] One in the kitchen would 
be great stuff. 

Sylvia. I had better go out and break it to Hulda. 

Nancy. She'll say, "Ay ban goin' quit." 



ACT ii] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 231 

Mrs. Converse. Put her in the photograph and she'll 
stay for life. 

Nancy. I hope so. She's the seventh in four weeks. 

Gellette. We'll have the first picture in the garden. I'll 
go and arrange it. Come on, Sylvia. 

Nancy. Don't put me among the lilies. They toil not, 
neither do they spin. 

[Gillette laughs and exits with Sylvia to the garden. 
Mrs. Wells rises and goes to Nancy, who has 
joined Mrs. Converse. 

Mrs. Wells. Now, Nancy, you're not going to refuse 
this great opportunity Mr. Gillette's offering you? Think 
what we could do with the money. 

Nancy. Reconstruction work in France? 

Mrs. Wells. No. We could reconstruct some slums in 
this country. 

Mrs. Wynne. Great idea, Wellsie! 

Mrs. Converse. Splendid scheme! 

Mrs. Perrin. It's what we ought to do. 

Mrs. Brown. And right now. 

Mrs. Wells. We could keep the unit together. 

Mrs. Brown. [Rising.'] I'm for that. 

Mrs. Perrin. [Rising.] I'm for anything that would give 
us all something real to do. 

Mrs. Wynne. You've said it. 

Nancy. I can't make up my mind. I don't believe Jeff 
would approve and unless he did I wouldn't want to go. 

Mrs. Wells. Wasn't he very proud of your success last 
night? 

Nancy. If he was, he has concealed it most carefully. 

Mrs. Brown. Hasn't he congratulated you? 

Nancy. Not a congrat. ''Kinda" took the joy out of it. 

Mrs. Converse. Don't let that worry you, Nancy. A 
husband hates to admit that his wife can do anything. 

Mrs. Wells. He's likely making himself a bore at the 
club right now, bragging about you. 



232 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 

Nancy. Do you think so? But if I went, what about 
Sylvia? 

Mrs. Wynne. Why not take her with you? 
Nancy. I don't believe she'd want to leave her father. 
And I don't know that I'd be happy thinking of Jeff here 
alone again. 

Mrs. Perrin. Alan would be here. 

Nancy. I hadn't thought of that. Well, I'll think it over. 

Mrs. Wells. Think it over seriously. 

[Sylvl\ appears at the door to the terrace. 
Sylvia. Oh, mother, Mr. Gillette's ready. 
Nancy. All right. Come on, girls. How do I look? 
Mrs. Brown. Fine. 

Mrs. Wells. Nancy, I ought to go to market and get 
Gilbert's fruit for breakfast. It's Saturday and all the 
melons may be sold. 
Nancy. Oh, Wellsie, you should worry. Give him prunes. 
[The women laugh. Nancy takes Mrs. Well^- by the 
arm and leads her up to door, Mrs. Wells expostu- 
lating. They all go down the steps to the garden, 
talking. Nancy has given Sylvia the contract. 
Sylvia places it on the table and is about to follow 
the women when Alan appears from the hall. He 
is in golf clothes. 
Alan. Oh, sis. 
Sylvia. What? 

Alan. Did you fix it with Peggy? 
Sylvia. Yes. She's coming to tea. 
Alan. That's great. 

Sylvia. Are you going to tell mother and daddy this 
afternoon? 
Alan. Sure. 

Sylvia. Before Peggy arrives? 
Alan. No. 
Sylvia. You should. 
Alan. Not at all. If I tell them I'm going to marry a 



ACT n] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 233 

stenographer they might be prejudiced. Once they see her 
they won't care what she is. 

Sylvia. I hope so. 

Alan. Oh, she'll bowl them right over as she did me. 

Sylvia. Where's Daddy? 

Jeffrey. [Entering.] Right here. 

Sylvia. How was your game? 

Jeffrey. Rotten! Why didn't you and your mother 
join us at luncheon? 

Sylvia. Mr. Gillette came and we couldn't. 

Alan. [Sitting.] Is that pest here? 

Sylvia. [Indignantly.] Dudley's not a pest. [Smiling.] 
He's charming. 

Alan. Since when, ''Dudley"? 

Sylvia. I can't go on calling a man I've seen almost 
every day for a month Mr. Gillette. Can I, Daddy? 

Alan. [Coming over to her.] Don't let me catch you 
flirting with him. 

Sylvia. Why, Alan Fair, I don't know how. 

Jeffrey. Alan, don't talk such damn nonsense. 

Sylvia. Thanks, Daddy. 

[Alan returns to the arm-chair, 

Jeffrey. Where's your mother? 

Sylvia. In the garden, being photographed. 

Jeffrey. Again? 

Alan. What's the idea this time? 

Sylvia. It's for a magazine article showing her domestic 
side. 

Jeffrey. I hope the camera qan find it. 

[As he passes the table he sees the contract lying on it. 
He picks it up, sits, and begins to read it. Sylvia 
goes over to Alan, who is seated. 

Sylvia. Oh! Have you seen the afternoon papers? 

Jeffrey. We have. 

Sylvia. Aren't they wonderful? [Alan is silent. Sylvia 
goes to Jeffrey.] Aren't they wonderful? [Jeffrey does 
not answer.] Oh, I think that you are both as mean as you 



THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 

can be about mother! I should think you'd be proud of 
her! 

Jeffrey. We were. 

Sylvia. Why aren't you now? Everybody was crazy 
about her last night and neither of you so much as con- 
gratulated her. 

Alan. I couldn't get near her. 

Sylvm. You didn't try very hard. And, daddy, you left 
us flat and went home with Angy Brice. 

Jeffrey. Angy was feeling seedy. 

Sylvia. Humph! Maybe. Sometimes I think Angy 
doesn't like mother. 

Alan. Just finding that out? 

Jeffrey. Nonsense, children; she admires her enor- 
mously. 

Sylvia. You might have waited and said something nice 
to mother this morning. 

Alan. We had a foursome on and she wasn't up. 

Jeffrey. Oh, enough people will make a fuss over her. 

Sylvia. I don't see why you two hate the "fuss" every- 
one makes over mother. She can't help being celebrated 
and having people chase after her. You see just as much 
of her as I do. I don't mind, but you and Alan act so 
funny. [Tearjtdly.] Nothing's the same as I thought it 
would be when mother came home. I don't know what's 
the matter. 

Jeffrey. [Going to Sylvia.] Why, Sylvia, Alan and I 
wouldn't do anything to worry you for the world, would 
we? 

Alan. Certainly not. 

Sylvia. [Tearftdly.] Then why aren't you both nicer 
to mother? 

Jeffrey. [Taking her in his arms.] Oh, come now; don't 
cry. Don't you know that your old daddy wouldn't hurt 
you? Pick out your spot and I'll lie down and let you walk 
on me. [Sylvia smiles.'] That's better. 



ACT ii] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR ^35 

[He kisses her, then Sylvia takes his hands and tries 
to pull him towards the door to the terrace. 
Sylvia. Don't you want to come out and get in the muss? 
Jeffrey. Who's out there? 
Sylvia. Bridget Wynne and the others. 
Jeffrey. [Dropping Sylvia's hands.'] No. I saw all of 
them yesterday. 

Sylvia. Now, Daddy, you're not going to be nasty about 
these photographs? 

Jeffrey. Not a yap out of me. 

[He laughs. Sylvia kisses him, then runs down the 
steps, calling *^0h, mother!" Nancy and the women 
who are at the right of the garden call to her. Jef- 
frey follows Sylvia to the door, where he stands 
looking off into the garden, from which come the 
sounds of laughter and conversation. 
Jeffrey. Gosh, I'd like to come into this place just once 
and not find that bunch of women here. A man would have 
more privacy in the Grand Central Depot. 

Alan. You said it. Whenever mother is at home this 
house looks like a Club women's Old Home Week. 

Jeffrey. Wouldn't you think, after four years together, 
they'd be tired of each other? 

[Alan joins Jeffrey at the door, 
Alan. And the line of flattery they hand out and mother 
lapping it up like a cat does cream! 

Jeffrey. I know. Even a woman as level-headed as your 
mother will soon believe she's the greatest thing in the world. 

[He goes to the arm-chair and sits. 

Alan. Why don't you take her away, out of it all? 

Jeffrey. She's booked up a month ahead. Banquets, 

receptions, although I thought she had been given one by 

everybody from the Mayor down to the Conductorettes' 

Union. 

Alan. And they have almost worn out that Croix de 
Guerre passing it around from hand to hand. 

Jeffrey. Yes, and what are you going to do about it? 



236 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 

Alan. Why did you let her start? 

Jeffrey. Who told me to keep her busy? 

Alan. I did — I did. I wasn't counting on the endurance 
of women. If I had hit a gait like mother's 

Jeffrey. She hasn't rested a day since she arrived. 

Alan. It's a wonder to me that she hasn't had a nervous 
breakdown. 

Jeffrey. Son, the only thing that makes a woman have 
a nervous breakdown nowadays is having to stay at home. 
[A noise of laughter and high-pitched gabble comes from 
the garden.'] Listen to that cackle. What are they doing? 

Alan. They're leaving. 

Jeffrey. All of them? 

Alan. No. Mrs. Wynne, the bodyguard, is sticking 
around. 

Jeffrey. What's Sylvia doing? 

Alan. Standing there, adoring mother as usual. 

Jeffrey. She is the sweetest kid. 

Alan. [Coming to Jeffrey.] She is that. Doesn't even 
see that mother is neglecting her. Why can't she settle 
down and devote herself to Sylvia? 

Jeffrey. She would if it weren't for those women and 
that damn Gillette! He'll have her signed, sealed and de- 
livered. 

Alan. Why don't you tie a can to him? 

Jeffrey. How? By forbidding him to come here? My 
boy, I haven't lived with your mother all these years with- 
out realising that, if you want her to do something, tell her 
she can't. 

Alan. I'm "kinda" that way. 

Jeffrey. Yes. It works with you, too. 

[They laugh. Jeffrey, rising, sees Angy, who has 
come from the left side of the garden, and is now^ 
at the top of the steps. 

Jeffrey. Hello, Angy! 

Angy. May I come in? 

Jeffrey. Certainly. 



ACT ii] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 237. 

Angy. Sure I'm not intruding? 

Alan. [Sarcastically.] Oh, not at all. Won't you sit 
down? 

Angy. Oh, I simply wanted to see Jeff a minute 

Alan. Might as well be comfortable while you're looking 
at him. 

[With elaborate politeness, he indicates the arm- 
chair. Angy looks at him sharply. Alan smiles 
sweetly. Angy controls her annoyance, smiles at 
him and sits. Jeffrey, oblivious, sits on the couch 
on the opposite side of the room. Alan wanders over 
back of Angy's chair, and takes up his position in 
the centre of the room between Angy and Jeffrey. 

Jeffrey. All right again? 

Angy. Oh, yes. It was very close in the clubroom last 
night. Then I got quite worked up over Mrs. Fair's lecture. 
It was so harrowing. 

Alan. [Very pleasantly.] Quite a success, though. 

Angy. [Smiling sweetly at him.] Yes, being a woman in 
uniform helped a lot, don't you think? I'm sure she'll be a 
great success on tour. She's been so well advertised. You 
can't pick up a magazine v/ithout seeing your mother's pic- 
ture under "In the Public Eye." 

Jeffrey. [Annoyed.] She's not on tour yet. 

Angy. [Innocently .] She's going, isn't she? 

Alan. It isn't decided. 

Angy. [Affecting great surprise.] Why, Mr. Gillette told 
me the other day that it was practically settled. He was 
afraid that the family might interfere. I laughed at the 
idea. Why should you object to Mrs. Fair going away for 
a few months when she had left you all alone so long? 

Alan. That was kind of you to reassure him. 

Angy. Of course you could go too, Jeff. 

Jeffrey. I? 

Angy. [Sympathetically.] I suppose it would get tire- 
some, being merely the husband of Major Fair. 

Jeffrey. Yes, one can get fed up on it. 



2S8 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 

Angy. I'd be perfectly willing to take charge of Sylvia 
again. 

Alan. Mother hasn't gone yet. 

Angy. [Protesting.] If she wants to, I think she should. 
It isn't as though Mrs. Fair were a home body like me, just 
content to make a man comfortable and happy. You can't 
expect anyone so brilliant as your mother not to get bored 
with her home and her family. Not that I'm insinuating 
that she is. 

Alan. Oh, no. 

Jeffrey. [Tired of the discussion.] What did you want 
to see me about, Angy? 

Angy. This letter, but there's no hurry. [There is a 
pause; Angy looks at Alan and turns away, annoyed. Alan 
smiles. Finally Angy, determined to be rid of him, turns 
and smiles sweetly.] Oh, Alan, been to see your "buddy" 
lately? 

Alan. [Confused.] Why, yes. 

Angy. He must be awfully attractive to have you so 
devoted to him. [Meaningly.] Sylvia says he has a very 
charming sister. 

Alan. [More confused.] Yes — ^yes, he has. 

Jeffrey. [Rising.] What's this I hear? 

Alan. [Very much embarrassed.] I think I'll go change. 
[He hurriedly leaves the room. Jeffrey watching 
amused. Angy smiles to herself, pleased at having 
rid herself of Alan. Jeffrey goes to Angy. 

Jeffrey. Well, Angy, let me see the letter. 

Angy. The letter was only an excuse. I saw those stupid 
women in the garden and I knew how it bored you to have 
them around, so I came over to give you an excuse to get 
away. 

Jeffrey. Good of you, Angy, but I'll stay here. They 
have to go home some time, if it's only to sleep. 

[He goes to a chair below the fireplace, where he 
sits facing Angy, who looks annoyed at the failure 



ACT ii] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 239 

of her ruse; as Jeffrey turns to her she smiles 
sweetly. 
Angy. [Sighing.'l I'd like to be celebrated and have 
women like me. 
Jeffrey. They do. 

Angy. They don't. All their nasty husbands do. 
Jeffrey. Why aren't you as nice to the wives? 
Angy. I don't get a chance. The husbands always grab 
me and rush me off to a comer. The next man I marry has 
to build me a house that's perfectly round. I'm sick of 
corners. [Jeffrey laughs.] And I'm sick of other wom- 
en's husbands, too. 
Jeffrey. Including me? 

Angy. I haven't had enough of your society since your 
wife came home to get tired of you, and as I'm not going to 
have any of it today, I may as well go home. 

[She rises and starts toward the terrace. Jeffrey 
follows her. 

Jeffrey. Oh, wait, Angy, I 

[He stops, arrested by the appearance of Nancy 
and Mrs. Wynne entering from the terrace. Nancy 
is surprised at the sight of Angy, then comes to- 
ward her. Nancy's manner is polite but not cordial. 
x^ancy. How do you do, Mrs. Brice? Oh, Jeff! I was 
so sorry we couldn't come to the club. 
Jeffrey. [Coldly.] That's all right. Sylvia explained. 
Angy. Oh, Mrs. Fair, I don't know what you must have 
thought of me running away with Jeff last night. 
Nancy. Didn't even know you did! 
Angy. I wanted to stay and tell you how splendid you 
were, but I was rather upset. 

• Mrs. Wynne. [Smiling.] Yes. Don't you hate to hang 
around where another woman is making the hit? 

Nancy. That doesn't often happen where Mrs. Brice is. 
Does it, Jeff? 

Angy. Oh, really. 



240 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 

Nancy. You will have to excuse me. I have to put on 
my hat and powder my nose. Come along, Biddy. 

Jeffrey. Are you going out again, Nancy? 

Nancy. Yes, dear, going over to the Club. 

Angy. Oh, then may I borrow your nice husband to help 
me with some stupid business things? 

Nancy. If you'll be sure to return him. 

Angy. I always have, haven't I? See you later, Jeff. 

Jeffrey. If I can manage it. 

Angy. Good-bye, Mrs. Wynne; give my love to dear old 
Wynne. Good-bye, Mrs. Fair. Hope the photographs are 
a success. I wish somebody wanted to take mine. It must 
be lovely to be notorious. 

[She smiles very sweetly, then goes down the steps 
through the garden to the left. 

Nancy. Sweet woman! 

Mrs. Wynne. She's some fast worker with the harpoon. 
Bye-bye, Jeff. 

[She goes. Nancy is following her, but at the door to 
the hall she stops, looks at Jeffrey, who is standing 
at the fireplace, then advances toward him. 

Nancy. Jeff, dear, why don't you come with us? 

Jeffrey. What are you going to do? 

Nancy. Mr. Gillette wants a photograph of me with my 
girls on the steps of the club-house. 

Jeffrey. Absurd idea! 

Nancy. Why, what's absurd about it? You and Alan 
were photographed in the Father and Son Tournament. 

Jeffrey. That's different. I'm guyed enough by the 
crowd as it is. I can't pick up a magazine at the club 
without someone asking me if I'm looking for the Major's 
picture. [He comes to her angrily.'] I can't come into this 
house without falling over a camera, or finding some inter- 
viewer smoking my best cigars. 

Nancy. [Taken aback.] I'm sorry. I don't know quite 
how I would explain to Mr. Gillette and the girls that you 
object 



ACT ii] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 241 

Jeffrey. Don't let me embarrass you. If you want ta 
go on making yourself and your family ridiculous, don't let 
me stop you. 

[He starts toward the door to the terrace. Nancy 
is indignant y then controls herself. 
Nancy. [Expostulating. ] Jeff! 
Jeffrey. [Turning.] Yes? 

Nancy. I didn't think 

Jeffrey. No. You never think about anybody but your- 
self. 

[Nancy stands, annoyed, hurt, speechless. Gillette 
enters hurriedly jrom the terrace. 

Gillette. Oh, Mrs. Fair [Sees Jeffrey.] I beg 

your pardon. 

Jeffrey. Oh, that's all right. 

[He goes, meeting Sylvia at the foot of the steps 

to the garden. They talk. Gillette watches 

Nancy narrowly. There is a slight pause, then 

Nancy turns to go. 

Gillette. Mrs. Fair, are you going to sign that contract 

today? 

Nancy. I haven't decided. I'll let you know before the 
day is out. I'll be right down. 

[She goes, Gillette looking after her annoyed. 
Jeffrey leaves Sylvia and goes through the garden 
in the direction taken by Angy. Sylvia runs up 
steps and comes into the room. Gillette turns ta 
her. 
Gillette. Aren't you coming with us? 
Sylvia. No. Miss Gibbs is coming to tea. 
Gillette. Who's she? 
Sylvia. Alan's buddy's sister. 

Gillette. [Thoughtfully.] Gibbs? What's her brother's 
name? 

Sylvia. Tom Gibbs. 

Gillette. [Quickly.] Tom Gibbs? What does he do? 

Silvia. Arrests people. 



242 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 

Gillette. [Startled.] What? 

Sylvia. He's a detective. Same thing as a policeman, 
only he doesn't wear a uniform or stand on the corner. 

Gillette. I know what a detective is! Are these Gibbs 
friends of yours? 

Sylvia. Oh, yes. 

Gillette. That's queer. They don't belong in your set. 

Sylvia. Oh, Dudley, you mustn't be a snob. It isn't 
being done since the war. 

Gillette. What does Miss Gibbs do now? 

Sylvia. She is a stenographer. Why are you so inter- 
ested in her? 

Gillette. Interested in her! With you here! 

[He goes over to Sylvia, who is seated in the 
arm-chair. His manner becomes subtly, almost im- 
pudently, familiar. He flatters Sylvia in order to 
extract information from her. 

Sylvia. You're not interested in me. 

Gillette. I wouldn't dare tell you how much. 

Sylvia. Why not? 

Gillette. Your mother wouldn't like it. 

Sylvia. She's not here. 

Gillette. But she will be. Think your mother will sign 
that contract? 

Sylvia. I don't know. [Girlishly, but not flirtatiously.] 
Why don't you tell me why you're interested in me? 

Gillette. [Leaning over the arm of chair.] Don't tempt 
me, you little siren. 

Sylvia. I'm not. 

Gillette. You're a regular little baby vamp. 

Sylvia. You mustn't. You're dreadfully bold. 

Gillette. You like it, don't you? 

Sylvia. Uh huh. [Giggling.] It's funny, but you 
shouldn't 

Gillette. [Leaning over so that his face is very close to 
Sylvia's.] You shouldn't be so fascinating. [Sylvia is a 
little embarrassed, but is enjoying it. Gillette, feeling that 



ACT ii] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 24S 

he has impressed her sufficiently, turns away and in business- 
like tone and manner begins to question her.] Has your 
mother said anything about signing the contract? 
Sylvia. [Disappointed.] I don't know. 

[She rises slowly and goes to the mantel, her back 
toward Gillette, who is not looking at her. 
Gillette. Do you think your father will object? 
Sylvia. [Impatiently.] I don't know. 
Gillette. Do you think that Alan will put his oar in to 

prevent your mother 

Sylvia. [Angrily.] Oh, I don't know! 

[She stamps her foot and starts to go. Gillette 
realises his mistake. 
Gillette. Why, Sylvia, what's the matter? 
Sylvia. [Flaring out.] Oh, it's always mother, mother, 

mother. I'm sure Alan needn't worry about my flirt 

[She stops abruptly and turns away, confused. Gil- 
lette smiles. 
Gillette. About your what? 
Sylvia. Oh, nothing. 
Gillette. Flirting»with me? 
Sylvia. I didn't say it. 
Gillette. You were going to. 
Sylvia. I won't tell you. 

[Very much embarrassed, she runs away to the 
other side of the room. Gillette looks at her as 
though what she had said had given him an idea. 
Gillette. [Slowly.] It had never occurred to me. [Syl- 
via turns quickly.] I mean, that you would. 

Sylvia. Well, I wouldn't, Mr. Dudley Gillette, so there! 
[She goes toward the door to the hall. Gillette 
is much amused. Nora shows in Peggy Gibbs. 
Sylvia. Oh, Peggy, dear! Nora, tell Mr. Alan that Miss 
Gibbs is here. 

[Nora exits. Gillette has turned and starts slightly 
at the sight of Peggy, who is a girl of twenty-jive, 
sincere, clear-thinking, practical, yet not lacking in 



244 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 

feminine charm and humour. She wears a severely 
plain yet modish frock. 

Sylvia. Peggy, may I present Mr. Gillette? 

Gillette. [Bowing.] Miss Gibbs. 

Peggy. [Puzzled.] I think we've met before. 

Gillette. [On his gimrd.] Really? 

Sylvia. Where? 

Peggy. At the War Relief Bazaar in 1914. I was a 
A^olunteer there. 

Sylvia. The one there was all the scandal about? 

Gillette. [Casually.] I do remember something about 
it. But I wasn't in New York then. 

Peggy. Then I'm mistaken. 

Gillette. [Impressively.] Yes. I'm sure that if I ever 
had the pleasure- of meeting you, it would have been utterly 
impossible for me to forget you. 

[Peggy, annoyed at the flattery, turns away. Sylvia 
is pleased and smiles at Gillette. Nancy enters, 
wearing a hat, carrying gloves and a parasol. She 
is followed by Mrs. Wynne. 

Nancy. I'm ready, Mr. Gillette. 

Sylvia. Oh, mother 

[Nancy turns. Sylvia and Peggy advance to her, 

Nancy. [Shaking hands.] Oh, is this Miss Gibbs? Sylvia 
told me you were coming to tea. I'm so glad to meet you. 
I've heard of you from Sylvia and of course Alan's told 
me all about your wonderful brother. 

Peggy. This is a great pleasure for me. I've heard so 
much of you and I've been so thrilled by all the great 
things you've done. 

Nancy. Oh, Sylvia, isn't that sweet' Oh, Biddy, isn't 
that charming! [To Peggy.] This is Mrs. Wynne, one of 
my unit. I wonder if you are going to be very generous 
and forgive me if I run away for a few minutes? Some- 
thing unexpected and important. I'll hurry back as fast 
as I can for I want to have a real visit with you. 

Peggy. Of course. Don't let me interfere. 



ACT II] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 245 

Nancy. That's all very understanding of you. I won't 
be ten minutes. Sylvia will take excellent care of you. 
[She goes, followed by Mrs. Wynne and Gillette. 
They disappear through the garden, Peggy watching 
them from the door as they go. 

Sylvia. Well? 

Peggy. Oh, Sylvia, she's charming. 

Sylvia. Have I said too much about her? 

Peggy. Not half enough. 

[Alan in immactdate flannels comes rushing in from 
the door to the hall. 

Alan. Peggy! [Peggy tttrns. Alan goes to her quickly 
and puts his arms around her.] Don't look, Sylvia. 

Peggy. [Expostulating.'] Oh, Alan! 

[Alan kisses her^ 

Alan. Now, where's mother? 

Sylvia. She's gone to be photographed at the Club. 

Alan. What! That's the limit! Didn't she know Peggy 
was coming? 

Peggy. I've just met her and she's made her excuses and 
is coming right back. 

Alan. Oh! 

Peggy. You'd better "Oh." Sylvia, has he always spoken 
before he thinks? 

Sylvia. Always. 

Alan. Where's Dad? 

Sylvia. I'll get him. He is at Mrs. Brice's. 

[She goes. 

Peggy. Oh, Alan, I'm going to love your mother. I hope 
she likes me. 

Alan. You should worry. 

Peggy. That's just what I'm doing — worrying. 

Alan. Well, if anybody in my family doesn't like you, 
you know what they can do, don't you? 

Peggy. Yes. Make it distinctly uncomfortable for you. 

Alan. Well, anyway, I'm going to announce our engage- 
ment today. 



246 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 

Peggy. Why, if Sylvia had told me that I wouldn't have 
come. She said that you simply wanted to introduce me 
to your father and mother. 

Alan. I didn't tell her in what capacity. 

Peggy. Please, Alan, let your mother get to know me 
first. If you thrust me at her it may prejudice her. 

Alan. Nonsense. What's more, I'm going to tell them 
that we are to be married right away. 

Peggy. We are not. I'm not going to be rushed into 
marriage. 

Alan. Rushed? Why, I've known you eight weeks. 

Peggy. Yes, you had me engaged to you before I knew 
what was happening to me. 

Alan. Only way to handle you. If you get too much 
time to think 

Peggy. I'm going to have a good long think before I 
get married. 

Alan. It's cold, then. Good-bye, darling. 

[He moves away. Peggy fallows him. 

Peggy. Oh, be sensible. How can we be married? 

Alan. Why, you have a license and a ring and a min- 
ister 

Peggy. Yes, and money that you've earned, not that you 
get from your father. 

Alan. Don't need his money. I've got a job. 

Peggy. What? What sort of a job? 

Alan. That's my secret. 

Peggy. Oh, is it so bad that you're ashamed of it? 

Alan. Bad enough to pay me thirty dollars a week! 

Peggy. I knew that you had hypnotic charm for women. 
What did you do to the man? Frighten him? 

Alan. No. He used to be my top sergeant. 

Peggy. Oh, that explains it. 

Alan. I thought you'd be pleased. 

Peggy. Did he get himself a little job? Oh, darling, I'm 
only funning. I'm very proud of you. 

Alan. Then you'll marry me? 



ACT ii] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 247 

Peggy. Can't we wait until 



Alan. Look here. I postponed our marriage to wait for 
a family reunion that didn't "reune." Then I had to wait 
until I got a job. Well, I have one. Now it's up to you. 
If you don't want to marry me, say so. 

Peggy. I do, Alan. You know I do. But I want your 
father and mother to approve. There is a chance they 
mightn't like me. 

Alan. You're not marrying them. Who are you marry- 
ing, darling? 

Peggy. [Mischievomly.] None of your business. 

Alan. Just for that, you sassy little devil 

[He tries to take Peggy in his arms. She dodges 
and runs away. Alan catches her and swings her 
around into his arms. They are laughing and strug- 
gling, their backs to the door to the terrace at which 
Jeffrey appears. He stands amazed at what seems 
to be Alan's efforts to kiss a girl against her will. 
He frowns in annoyance and starts toward them.. 

Jeffrey. [Sharply.] Alan! 

Alan. [Over his shoulder.'] It's all right, dad. We're 
engaged. [Peggy, who has ceased to struggle at the sound 
of Jeffrey's voice, is kissed by Alan, then released. She 
is much embarrassed. Alan crosses to Jeffrey, leading 
Peggy by the hand.] Dad, this is Peggy. 

Jeffrey. Peggy? 

Alan. Peggy Gibbs. 

Jeffrey. [Coldly.] How do you do, Miss Gibbs? 

Peggy, Mr. Fair. 

Alan. Well, dad, I suppose you're surprised. 

Jeffrey. [Sarcastically.] Has the engagement just oc- 
curred? 

Alan. Oh, no; it's a month old. 

Jeffrey. Really, Alan, I 

Alan. Dad, don't be hurt because we didn't tell you. 

Peggy. Alan didn't want to spoil his mother's home- 
coming by the announcement. 



248 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 

Alan. It wasn't my idea at all: it was Peggy's. 

Jeffrey. Why should this engagement distress your 
mother? 

Alan. You see, dad, Peggy is my "buddy's" sister. 

Jeffrey. Yes? 

Peggy. Oh, Alan, let us be frank. [To Jeffrey.] It 
annoys him when I say it, but I'm not of your class. I'm 
a stenographer. 

Alan. [Proudly.] She's a private secretary. 

Jeffrey. What is the difference? 

Peggy. Twenty dollars a week. 

Jeffrey. Thank you; I deserved that. 

Alan. Well, Dad, are you for me or "agin" me? 

Jeffrey. That depends. 

Alan. On what? 

Peggy. [Hastily.] On me. You can't expect your father 
to give a snap judgment on a person he has just met. Sup- 
pose you leave us together so that we can have a little talk. 

[She moves away, 

Jeffrey. A very good idea. 

[Alan goes to Peggy. 

Alan. [Whispering.] Don't be nervous, dear. Dad's 
aces. [He kisses Peggy, then goes to Jeffrey.] Now, Dad, 
no heavy father stuff. 

[He leaves them, 

Jeffrey. Won't you be seated? 

Peggy. Thank you. 

[She sits on the couch. Jeffrey brings a chair and 
sits facing her.] 

Jeffrey. Well, Miss Gibbs? 

Peggy. To begin with, Mr. Fair, my family and I are, 
socially speaking, a total loss. 

Jeffrey. In what way? 

Peggy. My father is the village postman. My brother is 
now in the Detective Bureau, but was a policeman. 

Jeffrey. I see. 



ACT ii] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 249 

Peggy. [Drily.] Yes, I thought you would. My mother 
does her own work, but the weekly washing is sent out. 

Jeffrey. Very interesting, especially that bit about the 
laundry. 

Peggy. I graduated from High School, then went to 
Brown's Business College. I am now employed at forty 
dollars a week as a private secretary in the office of a firm 
of lawyers, O'Brien and Rosen weber. 

Jeffrey. I know of them. 

Peggy. I am twenty-three years old, quite healthy, am 
supposed to have a good disposition. Oh, there is one thing 
more: I'm a suffragette, and while I am not militant, I do 
parade. I believe that is all. 

Jeffrey. And you have Thursdays off? My dear Miss 
Gibbs, I'm not interviewing you as a prospective servant, 
but as a possible daughter-in-law. 

Peggy. Well, you wanted to know about me, didn't you? 

Jeffrey. You suggested this interview. I appreciate that 
it's a very difficult one for you. It isn't exactly easy for me. 
Yet, if I didn't learn something of the girl my son wishes 
to marry, I would be failing in my duty as a father, 
wouldn't I? 

Peggy. Yes. 

Jeffrey. Why are you so on the defensive? 

Peggy. Possibly because I'm a little afraid. 

Jeffrey. Surely not of me? Unless you're marrying Alan 
for 

Peggy. For monej'- and this sort of thing? No! Not 
that I wouldn't like it and enjoy it, but only if Alan earned 
it. And he will in time. He's made a start. He has a job. 

Jeffrey. Why didn't he come to me for a position? 

Peggy. Oh, Mr. Fair, please don't help him. That would 
spoil all my plans. 

Jeffrey. [Surprised.] How? 

Peggy. It's better for him to be entirely on his own. 

Jeffrey. [Puzzled.] Why? 

Peggy. The dear boy is full of the brotherhood of man. 



250 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 

He got that from the trenches, and if he is going to keep it, 
it's necessary for him to live simply for a time at least. 

Jeffrey. Sounds to me like a very serious courtship. 

Peggy. Is anything more serious than marriage? I'm 
scared to death of it. 

Jeffrey. [Amused.] Why? 

Peggy. I have to give up a great deal of my liberty and 
I want to be sure it's worth it. Oh, dear, life and what to 
do with it and Alan's problem and mine seems so much 
simpler on our back veranda. I suppose my family are 
right. 

Jeffrey. [Surprised.] Doesn't your family approve of 
the marriage? 

Peggy. Not at all. 

Jeffrey. [Indignantly.] Well, I Don't they like 

my son? 

[He rises, 

Peggy. [Smiling.] I like you for that. 

Jeffrey. [Sputtering.] Well, I 

Peggy. Oh, they are devoted to Alan, but they can't see 
any happiness in the marriage for me. They're afraid that 
the two families won't harmonise. 

Jeffrey. That's true; they mightn't. [There is a slight 
pause.] It seems to me you love my son. 

Peggy. Very much. 

Jeffrey. Then if I were Alan and you were you, I'd 
marry you and say damn the families. 

Peggy. Oh, Mr. Fair! 

[She rises impulsively, starts as though to embrace him, 
catches herself and recedes a little. Jeffrey follows 
her, inviting her to embrace him. They laugh. 

Jeffrey. Now we will put Alan out of his misery. [Calls.] 
Alan! Come here, young man. 

[Alan, who has been in the hall awaiting the verdict, 
comes in quickly. He looks anxiously at Jeffrey. 
? Alan. Well? 
; Jeffrey. Son, I hope you appreciate how lucky you are. 



ACT ii] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 251 

Alan. [Joyfully.] Dad I [He goes quickly to Peggy.] 
Excuse us. 

[He kisses her. 

Jeffrey. I could do with one myself. [Peggy crosses to 
Jeffrey and offers her lips to him shyly. He kisses her 
tenderly.'] Now, young man, what is this job? 

Alan. It's with the Iverson Construction Company. 
Time-keeper. 

Jeffrey. Well, you held the interscholastic record of 
America for wasting time. It's up to you to keep a little. 

Alan. Dad, that's pretty awful. 

Jeffrey. Peggy smiled. 

Alan. Brazen truckling to her father-in-law, 

Sylvia. [Running in.] Is it all right? 

Jeffrey. If you mean Peggy, she's very much all right. 

Sylvia. [Delightedly.] Oh, wait until you know her. 
Now I wish mother would come. 

Jeffrey. So she went to the club after all. 

Sylvia. Yes. She won't be long. 

[She goes up to the door to the terrace and looks off 
toward the entrance to the garden. 

Jeffrey. [Annoyed.] Did she know that Peggy was 
coming here this afternoon? 

Peggy. [Hastily.] Oh, yes, I met Mrs. Fair and she 
explained. 

Jeffrey. Left you here. That's most annoying. 

Sylvia. Here is mother now. 

[Nancy hurries in. 

Nancy. You see. Miss Gibbs, I haven't been long. Oh, 
you haven't had tea. Sylvia, dear, take mother's things and 
tell them to bring tea right in. [Sylvia, taking Nancy's 
hat and gloves, runs out. Nancy goes to the telephone on 
the table.] I must 'phone to the Colony Club right away. 

Jeffrey. [Irritably.] Can't that wait? 

Nancy. It's very important. 

Jeffrey. [Severely.] More important than to pay some 
attention to the girl your son is going to marry? 



252 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ii 

[Nancy looks at Jeffrey, dazed, then slowly turns her 
regard upon Peggy, then on Alan. 

Nancy. Alan, how long have you been engaged? 

Alan. Since the day before you came home. 

Nancy. A month ago. Why didn't you tell me? 

Peggy. I'm to blame, Mrs. Fair. I didn't want Alan to 
tell you because I feared it might distress you and spoil 
your home-coming. 

Nancy. Why should it do either? 

Alan. Peggy's afraid that because she's a stenographer — > 



you 

Nancy. What right had Miss Gibbs to judge how I 
would receive the news of my son's engagement? 

Peggy. I can see now what I did might be misjudged, 

but really my motives 

Alan. It isn't necessary to explain your motives. 
Jeffrey. I can vouch for Peggy. 

Alan. Thank you, Dad, but no one needs to vouch for 
her. The fact that I am going to marry her, that Sylvia 
loves her, and that you approve, should be enough for 
mother. 

[Nancy flinches, but is so shocked by the news that 

she says nothing, simply looks at Alan. Her eyes 

fill with tears, her lips quiver, and to conceal her 

emotion she turns away and goes to the door to the 

terrace. 

Peggy. Mrs. Fair, I know what you are thinking — feeling. 

[Nancy is silent. Peggy, distressed, turns to Jeffrey.] It 

is much better that I should go. 

Jeffrey. Perhaps it would be as well. Alan, take Peggy 
to the station. 

[Alan and Peggy go. Nancy turns, stretches out her 
hand as if to stop them. Then, covering her face 
with her hands, she stands crying silently. Jeffrey, 
ashamed of his outburst, man-like takes refuge in 
irritation. He goes to the table, picks up a paper and 



ACT ii] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 253 

sits, making a pretence of reading. He waits, expect^ 
ing Nancy to speak, then breaks the silence. 

Jeffrey. You've made a nice mess of things. 

Nancy. [Surprised.'] I? 

Jeffrey. Yes. If you hadn't been so keen on publicity, 
all this needn't have happened. 

Nancy. {Coming toward him.] Do you suppose if I had 
been told why Miss Gibbs was coming here that I would 
have allowed a stupid photograph to interfere? Isn't Alan's 
engagement something that could have been told me with- 
out shocking me, bewildering me so that Oh, you've 

made me seem ungracious to my boy. It was wicked, cruel 
of you. 

[She turns away and sits on the couch, crying. 

Jeffrey. How did I know you were going to take it like 
this? 

Nancy. What did you expect me to do? 

Jeffrey. Open your arms to her as any mother should. 

Nancy. How long have you known of this engagement? 

Jeffrey. Not until today. 

Nancy. And did you welcome her with outstretched arms 
at once? 

Jeffrey. Frankly, I was surprised! But after I had had 
a talk with her 

Nancy. Exactly. You had an opportunity to judge of 
her before you gave your approval, but I am expected to 
give at once the son I've loved, watched over, prayed for, 
to a girl of whom I know nothing. 

Jeffrey. I told you I vouched for her. 

[Nancy, in a rage, springs to her feet. 

Nancy. What's that to me? He's my son, too. 

Jeffrey. That's jealousy talking. 

Nancy. Is it strange that I should be jealous? Isn't it 
hard for any mother at first to give her son to another 
woman? If Alan had had any right feeling for me he would 
have told me tenderly, tactfully, that he loved someone else 
more than me. Instead, he let you thrust the fact at me. 



254 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act ir 

I don't know what I have ever done that he should have 
told you, even Sylvia, before me; made me feel like an out- 
sider. 

Jeffrey. Who is to blame for that? You put yourself 
outside your home. You can't hope to receive Alan's confi- 
dence if you are never here to get it. You can't go on 
neglecting your family 

Nancy. [Indignantly.] What? I give up everybody and 
everything belonging to me and endure privations, horrors, 
because I think it's my greatest duty, and then I am neg- 
lecting my family! [Bitterly.] My family seems to have 
gotten along very well without me. Ever since I came home 
you and Alan have resented everything I've done. 

Jeffrey. We don't approve of what you've been doing. 
[He rises and begins to pace up and down. 

Nancy. [Scornjully.] Approve! Must I secure the aj>- 
proval of my husband and my son for what I think best 
to do? 

Jeffrey. Your desire to appear in public, for instance? 

Nancy. [Very calmly.] If you had been overseas and 
had been urged to appear in public, would you have had to 
ask my approval? No. It would have been the perfectly 
natural thing for you to do. 

Jeffrey. It's not the same thing. 

Nancy. Because I'm a woman. Well, this war has settled 
one thing definitely. A woman's work counts for just as 
much as a man's and she is entitled to all the rewards it 
brings her. 

[Her calmness maddens Jeffrey. He advances on- 
her furiously. 

Jeffrey. You've done your duty by your country, but,^ 
by God, you're capitalising it. 

Nancy. [Turning upon him.] Jeffrey? 

Jeffrey. Ever since you've been home you've thought of 
everything but your duty to your family. All you think of 
is your appearance at public functions, getting your name 
and photograph in print. Can you deny that you are eager 



ACT ii] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 255 

to sign that contract so that you can make a triumphant 
tour of the country, telling the great American public how 
you helped win the war? Well, you'll put an end to all this 
publicity. You'll stop all these ridiculous lectures. You'll 
tear up that contract. You'll give up this tour and remain 
here where you belong. 

Nancy. [Very quietly.] And why must I do all this? 
Why must I remain here where I belong? 

Jeffrey. [Emphatically.] Because I am your husband 
and I forbid you to go. 

[They look at each other for an instant in silence. 
Jeffrey, feeling that he is master of the situation, 
walks slowly away and stands at the fireplace, his 
back toward Nancy, who smiles satirically, then goes 
quietly to the table. She sits, draws the contract, 
which is on the table, to her, and signs it. At the 
sound of the scratching of her pen Jeffrey turns 
quickly. He crumples the folded newspaper in his 
hand and throws it irritably on the chair. Nancy 
rises. They are standing facing each other in de- 
fiance as the curtain falls. 



THE THIRD ACT 

The sitting-room of Jeffrey Fair's apartment in a New 
York hotel. The decorations, furnishings and appoint- 
ments are tasteftd, luxuriom and characteristic of a 
modern "smart" hotel. On the left are double doors 
to the private hall and a door to a bedroom; at the back 
is a large window and at the right a fireplace and a 
door to another bedroom. A console table with a mir- 
ror over it stands against the right wall below the fire- 
place, in front of which is a Lawson sofa. On the 
opposite side of the room is a writing desk, near the 
window a small table with a telephone, and in the centre 
an oval table to the left of which is an arm-chair. 
There is a small chair in front of the desk, another at 
the window and a third at the back of the centre table. 

There are no photographs, books nor flowers; in fact, there 
is a noticeable lack of any attempt to create a home- 
like atmosphere, and, although the room is brilliantly 
lighted, the curtains drawn and a fire in the grate, the 
effect is one of dreariness in contrast to the charm in 
the environment in the preceding acts. It is an even- 
ing in October. 

As the curtain rises Jeffrey enters from the door at the 
right of the room. He wears informal evening dress 
and carries an overcoat and a hat which he places on 
the sofa. Then going to the doors to the hall he opens 
them, showing across the hall a door, on which he 
knocks. There is a slight pause and he knocks again, 
calling "Sylvia." There is no response. He opens the 
door, looks into the room, then closing the door returns 
and goes to the telephone. 

256 



ACT III] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 257 

Jeffrey. Give me the desk, please. [A pause.] Is this 
the desk? This is Mr. Fair speaking. Are you quite sure 
my daughter did not leave a note for Mrs. Fair? If you 
find one send it up. By the way, what is the correct time? 
Nine twenty- three. Thank you. 

[Jeffrey sets his watch, then takes a cigarette, lights 
it and sits on the couch. His attitude is one of deep 
dejection. There is a slight pause, then Alan en- 
ters from the room at the right. 

Jeffrey. [Turning to him.] Well, son? 

Alan. [Happily.] It's all right. 

Jeffrey. Made it up with your mother? [Alan nods.] 
That's fine. Did she mention Mrs. Fair, Jr.? 

Alan. Yes. She inquired very cordially for Peggy. 

[He sits. 

Jeffrey. Did she accept Peggy's invitation for dinner? 

Alan. She couldn't. Her secretary reminded her that 
she was to be the guest of honour at some banquet or other. 

Jeffrey. [Satirically.] I suppose that's why she came 
home. 
. Alan. Why wasn't Sylvia here to meet mother? 

Jeffrey. She wasn't expected until the day after to- 
morrow and Sylvia had made a dinner engagement that 
she didn't care to break. 

Alan. That's queer. I wonder if they've had a quarrel? 

Jeffrey. What gave you that idea? 

Alan. Well, Peggy and I have never been able to get 
anything out of Sylvia as to why she remained only a 
month on tour with mother. 

Jeffrey. I can understand just what happened. Her 
mother was entertained a great deal. That was part of 
the game of being the famous Mrs. Fair. It wasn't pos- 
sible, to include Sylvia in all of the functions. Naturally 
she was bored. So she came home. 

Alan. Considering they haven't seen each other for two 
months and that this is mother's first night at home, it is 
very selfish of Sylvia not to give up one party. 



258 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR^ [act m 

Jeffrey. [Irritably.] Sylvia's had to make her life with- 
out her mother and can't be expected to drop everything 
whenever she chooses to appear on the scene. 

Alan. All right, Dad, all right. You are so touchy about 
Sylvia. 

Jeffrey. You've shown a disposition of late to criticise 
your sister, and I don't like it. 

Alan. Don't let us scrap about Sylvia. I'm sorry if I 
have seemed unkind. But you know, Dad, you are spoil- 
ing her. 

Jeffrey. Oh, Hell, why not? A man's got to have some 
woman to spoil. Sylvia's sweet and loving to me. I was 
mighty glad to have her home again. It would have been 
a damn sight better for me if I had never let her go away. 

Alan. Now with mother at home, I suppose you'll give 
up these rooms and go back to the country? 

Jeffrey. She's going on another tour. 

[He rises and begins to walk about the room restlessly. 

Alan. I am disappointed. Damn Gillette. 

Jeffrey. It isn't his fault. 

Alan. [Surprised.] You're not sticking up for him? 

Jeffrey. He's not a bad sort when you get to know 
him. 

Alan. You don't like him? 

Jeffrey. No. But I no longer hold him responsible for 
your mother going lecturing. If it hadn't been he it would 
have been some other manager. 

Alan. Gillette's around here a good deal, isn't he? 

Jeffrey. Yes. [Bitterly.] I wouldn't deprive Sylvia 
from seeing a man who knows a damn sight better what 
her mother's doing than I do. 

[He sits behind. 

Alan. Sylvia is around with Gillette and his crowd a lot, 
isn't she? 

Jeffrey. Yes, he's been very kind to her. He's intro- 
duced her to his friends. 

Alan. You've met them? 



'act hi] 'the famous MRS. FAIR 259 

Jeffrey. Casually. 

Alan. Dancing a good deal, isn't she? 

Jeffrey. Everybody does. Keeps good hours, always 
tells me where she's going. 

Alan. Where is she tonight? 

Jeffrey. I ought to know. I don't remember. {De- 
fiantly,] Why? 

Alan. [Apologetically.'] Oh, nothing. It's getting late 
and I wondered if I would see her before I go home. 

Jeffrey. [Smiling.'] She'll come toddling in soon, bless 
her. I hope she's had a good time. 

Alan. By the way, what's become of Angy Briee? Syl- 
via never mentions her. 

Jeffrey. [Slightly confused.] She hasn't seen Mrs. 
Brice. Don't you remember I had this place ready for 
Sylvia when she came home? I thought she'd find the 
country dull without her mother. 

[Slightly embarrassed, he picks up a magazine, turns 
over its leaves. Alan watches him narrowly as 
Jeffrey replies to his questions. 

Alan. [Castmlly.] Hasn't Mrs. Brice been in town? 

Jeffrey. Yes. 

Alan. Have you seen her? 

Jeffrey. [Carelessly.] Occasionally. 

Alan. Odd Sylvia hasn't looked her up. They used to 
be such great pals. 

Jeffrey. Angy's too old for Sylvia, and Sylvia's made 
new friends. 

Alan. [Disarmed.] When mother goes, Peggy and I 
must see Sylvia oftener. I'm afraid we've been rather 
selfish. 

Jeffrey. Every newly married couple has that right. 
My boy, if your wife wants to associate with you, don't 
discourage her. 

Alan. Peggy works all day. I study all evening, so we 
don't have time to get bored with each other. 

Jeffrey. I wish Peggy would give up her job. What 



260 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act hi 

the devil's the good of all my money? I can't spend it all 
on Sylvia. 

Alan. Well, dad, if a wife wants to work these days, 
you have to let her. 

Jeffrey. Yes, but sometimes I wonder in this modern 
scheme of things where in hell the husband belongs. 

Alan. Why don't you put up an argimient about this 
new tour? 

Jeffrey. I put up a good one once, but she went, didn't 
she? No, son. 

Alan. [Eagerly.'} Perhaps if I talked to her 

Jeffrey. [Rising.] Don't you complicate things with 
her by trying to force anything for me. Let me give you 
a bit of advice. Never try to play God for your family. 
You only raise the devil. 

Alan. Very well, dad, you know best. 

Jeffrey. [Rueftdly.] Son, I don't know anything, any 
more. Don't you worry about me. So long as I have 
Sylvia I can stagger along. 

[He crosses and gets his hat and coat. 

Alan. [Surprised.] Are you going out? 

Jeffrey. Yes. 

Alan. [Rising.] But mother? 

Jeffrey. I wouldn't dream of intruding. She took great 
pains to tell me at dinner that she had a stack of mail wait- 
ing for her a mile high. Can I drop you at the subway? 

Alan. I'm not going home. Peggy's at the office tonight, 
working on an important case. I'm going to call for her. 
Anyway I think I'll leave a little line for Sylvia. 

Jeffrey. [Pleased.] Fine! Good night. 

Alan. Good night. 

Jeffrey. Give my love to Peggy. [He turns to leave 
the room, stops, hesitates, turns to Alan.] Tell her if she 
wants me tomorrow night, I'd be very glad to come. 

Alan. [Going to him quickly.] Why, Dad, we always 
want you. 



ACT III] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 261 

[Jeffrey takes Alan's outstretched hand, puts his 
arm around his shoulder, 
Jeffrey. \^Smiling.'] Good night. 

[^He goes. Alan watches him. His lips quiver; there 

are tears in his eyes. He brushes them away and is 

starting towards the desk, when from the door at the 

left of the room Nancy enters. She wears a simple 

evening gown. 

Nancy. Oh, Alan, I'm so glad you haven't gone. I have 

been thinking it over and I'm not going to that boring 

banquet. I'm going to dine with you instead. 

Alan. That's bully of you, mother. But it isn't neces- 
sary. You can come another night. 

Nancy. No, no. I insist. I want to telephone your 
wife now. 

Alan. Peggy's not at home. She's at the office tonight. 
I'm going down to fetch her. 

Nancy. I've a nice idea. I wonder if she would be too 
tired to drop in on the way home. 
Alan. [Surprised.] Tonight? 

Nancy. It's early, and [shyly] if Peggy is willing, I'd 
love to kiss and make up. 
Alan. Mother! 

[He goes quickly to Nancy and takes her in his 
arms. She begins to cry. He kisses her and soothes 
her. 
Nancy. My boy, my boy! 

Alan. [Very much affected.] There — there — smother. 
Nancy. Alan, promise me you'll never be on the "outs'* 
with me again? 

Alan. I won't. I won't. 
Nancy. It's almost made an old woman of me. 
Alan. It's been tough on me. I was wrong. 
Nancy. No, no, I was to blame. 
Alan. I won't stand for that. 

Nancy. Oh, my dear, it doesn't matter who was wrong, 
so that it's all right now. 



262 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act hi 

Alan. You bet it is, but — ^but 



Nancy. We won't spoil this by any postmortems. [She 
kisses him.] Did you see your father? 
Alan. Yes. 
Nancy. Where is he? 
Alan. He went out. 
Nancy. [Disappointedly.'] Oh! 
Alan. He thou^t you were too busy to be disturbed. 
Nancy. I sent my secretary away, but it doesn't matter. 
Alan. I must go for Peggy. She'll be on her ear. 
Nancy. Don't you think you had better rescue her? 
Now hurry right back. Oh, Alan, I have something for 
her and I want you to see if you think she will like it. 
[Tenderly.] I'm going to see you and Peggy very often 
before I go away again. 
Alan. When do you go? 

Nancy. I don't know ju'st what arrangements Mr. Gil- 
lette has made. He is coming to see me about them- to- 
night. 

Alan. Mother, do you think you ought' to go? I — -mean 
— ought to come to us instead of to that ba;nquet?* 

Nancy. That's all settled. I put them on the trail of 
another celebrity. 

[She laughs and goes into her room. Alan is smil- 
ing happily, humming a little tune when the dqprs to 
the hall open and Sylvm enters. She is completely 
transformed. In dress, coiffure and manner, she is 
the modern "cutie." Her face is rouged, her lips 
painted. On her' head at a rakish angle is an ermine 
toque and wrapped about her throat is an ermine 
stole. She saunters over to the mirror at the right, 
greeting Alan as she passes him. 
Sylvia. [Indifferently.] Hello, Alan. 
Alan. Hello, Sylvia. 
Sylvia. Mother here yet? 
Alan. Yes. 
Sylvia. ["Primping."] What about friend wife? 



ACT III] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 263 

Alan. It's all right. [Indignantly.] Why weren't you 
here to meet mother? 

Sylvia. [Carelessly.] I had a very special date. 
Alan. [Disgustedly.] With that Gillette, I suppose. 
Sylvia. That's my affair. 

Alan. How you or anyone else can 

Sylvia. [Crossly.] Alan Fair, don't you dare to knock 
Gillie. You don't like him — I do. 

[Enter Nancy smiling happily. She sees Sylvia and 
is so shocked by the change in her appearance that 
she stops speechless. The little jewelry box that she 
is carrying falls from her head. Sylvia, quite obliv- 
ious of the effect she has made on Nancy, runs 
towards her. 
Sylvia. Oh, hello, mother. 

[Nancy cannot speak. Sylvia surprised, stops. 
There is a slight pause. 
Nancy. [Inarticulately.] Sylvia! [Heart brokenly.] 
Sylvia! Sylvia! 

[She rushes to Sylvia, folds her in her arms, kiss- 
ing her frantically. Sylvia is happy, but rather 
puzzled. 
Sylvia. I v/as awfully sorry not to be here. You got 
my note? 
Nancy. No. 

Sylvia. Isn't that the limit? I gave it to the clerk my- 
self. I'll just ask him ''what's the idea." [She turns 
toward the telephone, and sees a hat box on the table.] 
Oh, the dam thing came at last. [She opens the box and 
takes out a '^freakish" hat.] I was going to wear this to- 
night. [She holds it up admiringly.] Isn't that a sweetie? 
Alan. [Disgustedly.] Where did you get it? 
Sylvia. [Going to the mirror.] At Francine's. She 
makes for all the smart chorus girls. [She puts it on, then 
strikes a pose.] How do I look? 
Alan. Just like a movie "cutie." 
Nancy. [Reprovingly.] Alan! 



264 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act m 

Sylvia. Oh, mother, don't mind Alan. He's always 
knocking my taste in clothes. 

[She is furious, and, snatching the hat off her head, 
throws it into the box and tosses it into a corner of 
the room. As she turns away, Nancy, who has been 
watching her in amazement, goes to Alan. 
Nancy. Oh, what have you all done to her? 
Alan. It isn't our fault. 

Nancy. No, it's mine. [A slight patcse.] Alan, say 
good night to your sister. 
Sylvia. Where's daddy? 
Alan. He's gone out. Mad? 
Sylvia. [Kissing him.] Not so you'd notice it. 
Alan. See you later, mother. 

[He goes. 
Nancy. Well, darling, glad to have your mother home 
again? 

Sylvia. Believe me, I am. 
[She is wearing her hair in exaggerated curves over 
her ears. Nancy puts her hands on either side of 
Sylvia's face and pushes the hair gently off her 
cheeks. 
Nancy. Why do you wear your hair like that? 
Sylvia. Everyone in my crowd does. 
Nancy. Come and sit down. I want to know all that 
you've been doing. 

Sylvia. I wrote to you. 
Nancy. Not so often lately. 

Sylvia. [Resentfully.'] With somethin' doin* every min- 
ute I didn't have the time. 

Nancy. [Quickly.] I'm not reproaching you, darling. 
Let's have a nice snuggly time. 

[She sits in the arm-chair, taking Sylvia on her lap. 
Then drawing Sylvia's head down on her shoulder, 
puts her arms about her, kisses her. Sylvia begins 
to cry. 
Sylvia. My, I've missed this. 



ACT in] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 265 

Nancy. [Very much affected.] So have I, dear. 
[She takes her handkerchief and wipes Sylvia's eyes 
and at the same time seizes the opportunity to remove 
a little of the rouge from Sylvia's face and lips. 

Nancy. Now let's begin at the beginning. 

Sylvia. Let's skip the beginning. It was horrid. 

Nancy. {Surprised.'] In what way, dear? 

Sylvia. I was so lonesome. 

Nancy. As soon as I knew you were to be at this hotel, 
instead of at home I wired to Bridget Wynne. Didn't she 
look you up? 

Sylvia. Oh, all the women came once. Mrs. Wynne gave 
me a luncheon and a box party and asked all the girls in 
our set. It was a perfect lemon. 

Nancy. How? 

Sylvia. For all the attention they gave to me I might 
as well not have been there. 

Nancy. Why should they be rude to you? 

Sylvia. They didn't mean to be. I didn't know all the 
little intimate things they talked about. One girl's mother 
was doing this for her, and another one's mother was doing 
that — anyway I felt like an outsider in what should have 
been my own crowd. When I got home I just bawled my 
head off, and daddy said we wouldn't bother with any of 
them again, but it was pretty awful especially as I didn't 
have Angy to fall back on. 

Nancy. No? 

Sylvia. Daddy said you didn't like me to be intimate 
with her. 

Nancy. I see. Haven't you seen Alan and Peggy? 

Sylvia. It's terribly dull at their fiat. They are so 
crazy about each other that half the time they don't know 
you're around. 

[They laugh. 

Nancy. Didn't father go about with you? 

Sylvia. Oh, yes, daddy's a darling, but he is old. Gil- 
lie's been my life saver. 



266 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act m 

Nancy. [Mystified.'] Who is Gillie? 

Sylvia. Mr. Gillette. He took me to a tea one day at 
a dancing place and introduced me to his friends. When 
he found I liked them, he said, "Sylvia, this little old town 
is yours. We'll take it all apart and see what makes it 
tick." 

Nancy. That doesn't sound like Mr. Gillette. 

Sylvia. Oh, he puts on his grand manners with you. 
You don't know the real Gillie. 

Nancy. [Thoughtfully.'] No, I don't believe I do. [^4 
slight pause.] Who are these friends? 

Sylvia. I don't know. Just New Yorkers. 

Nancy. Has your father met them? 

Sylvia. Oh, yes. 

Nancy. Has he gone around with you? 

Sylvia. Not to the lively parties. 

Nancy. [Shocked.] My dear, who chaperoned you? 

Sylvia. A woman pal of Gillie's. 

Nancy. Is she a married woman? 

Sylvia. [Giggling.] Is she? Three times. 

Nancy. How awful! 

Sylvia. [Protestingly.] She's terribly nice. You must 
know her. So sweet to me. Takes me motoring in the 
park almost every afternoon. 

Nancy. Where did you meet her, dear? 

Sylvia. At a party at "The Drowsy Saint." 

Nancy. Where's that? 

Sylvia. It's a new freak place in the village. 

Nancy. Who took you there? 

Sylvia. Gillie. He's a sweetie lamb, and so generous. 
He spends money like water. 

Nancy. [Puzzled.] He does? 

Sylvia. Yes, he's taken me on parties to all the cabarets, 
'n' everjrwhere. 

Nancy. Does your father know that you go to these 
places? 

Sylvia. Sure. 



ACT III] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 267 

Nancy. He never objects? 

Sylvia. Why should he when you go with your own 
crowd, there's no harm in them, is there? 

Nancy. They are not exactly the places for a girl who 
has been brought up as you have been. Is Mr. Gillette 
always your escort to these parties? 

Sylvia. [SmUing,'] He's my "gentleman friend." 

Nancy. He doesn't make love to you? 

Sylvia. [Giggling,] No, but I guess he'd like to. 

Nancy. Darling, you mustn't say such things. It isn't 
nice. 

Sylvia. [Sulkily.] Why not? 

Nancy. Well, nice girls don't, — that^s all. 

Sylvia. [Resentfully.] What else don't they do? 

Nancy. [Hesitatingly.] Well, dear, they don't go to the 
places you have been going, and they don't use rouge, or 
wear hats from Francine's. 

Sylvia. All the women in my crowd do. 

Nancy. Then I think you're going with the wrong 
crowd. 

Sylvia. [Indignantly.] How do you know? You've 
never seen any of them. They may not belong, but they 
know how to be kind. 

Nancy. Sylvia, I'm sorry, I don't mean to criticise 

Sylvia. [Rising* in a jt4ry of rage.] But you are, you 
are! Daddy is the only one that never finds fault with 
me. He's the only one that loves me really. 

[Nancy, horrified at the implication that she does not 
love Sylvia, rises quickly, grasps her in her arms, 
and almost roughly places her hand over Sylvta's 
mouth. She stands there crucified by the realisa- 
tion of the fact that she has apparently lost the love 
of her child. 

Nancy. Oh, my dear, my dear, — never* say that to me 
again. [She pauses a moment , then very tenderly.] It 
isn't always kind to allow you to do just as you please. 



268 THE FAMOUS MRS." FAIR [act m 

Sylvia. [Sullenly.] Doesn^t everyone else in this fam- 
ily do as they dam please? 

Nancy. [Hopelessly.] Yes, I suppose we do. 

[There is a slight pame. Sylvia looks defiantly at 
Nancy, who moves slowly across to the fireplace 
where she stands, her elbows resting on the mantel- 
piece, her face buried in her hands. The telephone 
bell rings sharply, Sylvia turns quickly to an- 
swer it. 
Sylvia. Yes. [Turning to Nancy.] Dudley's down- 
stairs. If you don't want to be bothered I can see him 
in the lounge. 

Nancy. Ask him to come up. 

Sylvlv. Have Mr. Gillette come right up. [To Nancy.] 
Were you expecting him? 

Nancy. Yes, he's coming to talk to me on business. 
Sylvia. I want to talk to him too, but I hadn't better 
butt in on your party. 

Nancy. It won't interfere, dear. 
Sylvia. I've a message for Gillie from the bunch. 
Nancy. Can't you give it to Mr. Gillette now? 
Sylvia. [Defiantly.] Any objection to my seeing him 
alone? 

Nancy. Why, none at all, dear; I'll let you know as 
soon as we have finished. 

[The buzzer at the double door sounds. 
Sylvia. Come in. [Gillette enters.] Oh, there you 
are. I thought you were going with us to dinner tonight. 
[Gillette, who has entered smilingly, frowns in an- 
noyance at Sylvia, and motions her to silence; then 
smiling suavely, advances toward Nancy. 
Gillette. Good evening, Mrs. Fair. It's a very great 
pleasure to see you again. 

[Nancy acknowledges Gillette's greeting coldly, 
Sylvia. Mother, when you're through with Gillie, have 
them page me in the lounge. I'll go down and hear a little 
jazz. 



ACT III] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 26» 

[She smiles sweetly at Gillette, who turns and 
smiles at her. She starts towards the door into the 
hall. Nancy crosses quickly to her. 
Nancy. No, Sylvia, you will wait in my room, please. 
[Sylvia turns angrily, looks at Nancy; there is a 
brief clash of wills, then Sylvia goes into Nancy's 
room, slamming the door. Nancy sinks wearily into, 
the chair and sits staring before her, lost in thought. 
Gillette places his hat, cane and gloves on the sofa, 
then approaches Nancy. 
Gillette. lEffmively.] Mrs. Fair, I must congratulate 
you on the success of your tour. It was phenomenal. I 
am proud to have had the privilege of presenting you to 
the American public. [Nancy makes no reply. Gillette 
looks at her in sur prise. 1 I trust that you have found it 
agreeable to appear under my management. [There is no 
response and Gillette looks at her again."] I hope our 
association will continue. I've secured even better terms 
for the new tour. 

[He sits. 
Nancy. I am not going on another tour. 
Gillette. [Astounded.] You are not going on — ^but 
Mrs. Fair, all the arrangements have been made. 
Nancy. They will have to be cancelled. 
Gillette. But you agreed to it by letter. You 'phoned 
me to bring these contracts tonight. 

Nancy. Things have occurred that have made me change 
my mind. 

Gillette. Are you dissatisfied with me? 
Nancy. No. But I can't go on. 

Gillette. You can't mean that you are going to give 
up all your triumphs. 
Nancy. [Satirically.] "Triumphs!'' 
Gillette. Why, Mrs. Fair, I am leaving tonight for 
Montreal to arrange for your appearance in Canada. The 
people in the East haven't heard you talk of your great 
work. 



270 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act hi 

Nancy. Mr. Gillette, there is nothing that could induce 
me to talk of my great work again. [A pame.] I will 
be very much obliged if you will bring me an accounting 
tomorrow. 

Gillette. [Nervously.'] Tomorrow? [He rises quickly, 

Nancy. Yes. I think there is about fifteen thousand 
dollars due. 

Gillette. [Stammering.'] Why — why — I won't be able 
to make a settlement tomorrow. It will take the book- 
keeper several days to make out a statement. 

Nancy. Let me have it as soon as possible, as I am going 
to re-open our house in the country. And now I believe 
Sylvia has some message for you. I will send her in and 
you can say good-bye to her. 

[She rises and goes to the door to her room. 

Gillette. [Astonished.] Good-bye? 

Nancy. [Turning to him.] I think it wiser. Sylvia has 
been telling me of your kindness to her. I don't wish to 
seem ungrateful, but I would rather you did not see her 
again, at least for the present. 

Gillette. [Angrily.] Are you insinuating that I am not 
good enough to associate with your daughter? 

Nancy. I never insinuate, Mr. Gillette. If I must speak 
more plainly, I will, and I hope you will not resent it. 

Gillette. [Rudely.] Well 

Nancy. Sylvia's story of her friendship with you has 
made me realise that you and I have rather different stand- 
ards as to the sort of associates and amusements that are 
suitable for girls of her age and up-bringing. 

Gillette. [Sneeringly.] She enjoyed the associates and 
the amusements. 

Nancy. Possibly, but I am sure that she will like much 
more the ones I intend to provide for her from now on. 
When may I expect the statement? 

Gillette. The day after tomorrow. 

Nancy. Good night, Mr. Gillette. 

Gillette. Good night, Mrs. Fair. 



ACT III] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 271 

[Nancy goes into her room. Gillette walks up and 
down. He is deeply annoyed, worried. Enter 
Sylvl\. She runs across to him. 

Sylvia. Oh, Gillie, the bunch said to tell you 

Gillette. [Irritably.'] Oh, hang the bunch. 

Sylvia. Why, Dudley, what's the matter? 

Gillette. Your mother has thrown me down. She has 
cancelled her tour. 

Sylvia. [Surprised.'] Mother's not going away? 

Gillette. No, and she has put me in an awful hole. 

Sylvia. How? 

Gillette. Oh, you wouldn't understand about business. 
Where the devil am I going to find fifteen thousand dol- 
lars by the day after tomorrow? 

Sylvia. I'm so sorry you're so worried. 

Gillette. I can do with a little sympathy. She's made 
me feel like a yellow dog. 

Sylvia. Did Mother say something unkind to you? 

Gillette. [Bitterly.] Did she? She spoke "plainly" and 
"hoped I wouldn't resent it." Me doing all I could so that 
you wouldn't be lonely. A lot of thanks I got. Told me 
I wasn't good enough to associate with you. [He laughs.] 
Well, if she objects to me, what's she going to say about 
your father and Angy Brice? 

Sylvia. Dudley! What do you mean? 

Gillette. The minute your mother's wise, shell get a 
divorce. 

Sylvia. [Shocked.] Divorce! 

Gillette. Why, you poor kid, aren't you onto your 
father and Angy Brice? Everybody else in town is. 

Sylvia. Oh, I never thought my Daddy would go back 
on me. 

[Brokenhearted, she sinks into a chair, sobbing. 

Gillette. Your whole family has gone back on you. 
That selfish brother of yours has no time for anybody but 
his wife. Your mother leaving you alone for years at a 



«72 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act hi 

stretch, and your father running around with Angy Brice. 
A lot they care about you. 

Sylvia. Nobody wants me. 

[Gillette, suddenly alarmed lest Sylvia's sobs may 
be overheard by her motker, crosses quickly to her 
and quiets her. 

Gillette. I want you. I'm the only one that cares any- 
thing about you, and I've been ordered to say good-bye 
to you. 

Sylvia. [Bewildered.'] Good-bye? 

GiLLBffTE. Yes, you're going to be taken down to the 
country. 

Sylvia. I won't go. 

Gillette. You'll have to go and you'll soon forget all 
about me. 

Sylvia. I won't. 

Gillette. Oh, yes, you will. 

Sylvia. I won't. 

Gillette. No? Then prove it. 

Sylvia. How? 

Gillette. Come with me to Montreal tonight. 

Sylvia. Oh, Dudley! 

Gillette. We'll be married as soon as we get there. 

Sylvia. I couldn't. They'd never forgive me. 

Gillette. Sure they will. Didn't they forgive Alan? 
Forgive you I Why, they'll be on their knees to you and 
to me, too. 

Sylvia. I don't know what to do. 

Gillette. Oh, all right. I might have known you 
wouldn't come through. You pretend to care for me. It's 
only a bluff. Well, stay here where nobody wants you. 
Good-bye. 

[He makes a pretence of leaving hurriedly. Sylvia 
rises and runs to him. 

Sylvia. Oh, Dudley, please don't go. 

Gillette. Well, what are you going to do about it? 

Sylvia. [Pathetically.'] You're sure you really want me? 



ACT III] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 273 

Gillette. Of course I want you. We can't talk here. 
Meet me down stairs in the lounge and we will talk it over. 
Now you won't weaken? 

[He opens the door to the hall. Sylvia crosses 
it to her room. He closes the door and stands 
for an instant smiling in triumph as he looks at 
the door to Nancy's room, then chuckling, goes 
hurriedly and gets his hat and cane from the sofa, 
and is starting to leave the room quickly when 
Nancy enters from her room. He stops and assumes 
a nonchalant attitude. 
Nancy. [Surprised.] Oh, Mr. Gillette, where is Sylvia? 
Gillette. I've said good-bye to her. She's gone to her 
room. Good night, Mrs. Fair. 
Nancy. Good night. 

[Gillette bows smilingly and leaves the room, clos- 
ing the door. Nancy stands thinking, then goes 
towards the door on her way to Sylvia's room. Her 
hand is on the knob when the telephone rings 
sharply, then again. Nancy answers it. 
Nancy. Hello. Put her on, please. Who? Mrs. Brice? 
Oh, this is Mrs. Fair. Yes. I'll give Mr. Fair your mes- 
sage. [Enter Jeffrey.] That was Mrs. Brice on the tele- 
phone. 

Jeffrey. [Surprised.'] Really? Why, I saw her 

Nancy. Yes, I know. She said that you had just been 
there, but she wants to see you tomorrow. 

Jeffrey. Oh, all right. [He goes towards his room.] 
Sylvia home? 

Nancy. Yes, she is in her room. Jeffrey [He stops], I 
hardly know how to say it. I understand about Mrs. Brice, 
but has it ever occurred to you that other people mightn't? 
Jeffrey. What do you mean? 

Nancy. The worst of these platonic friendships is, that 
people will talk. 

Jeffrey. Have you heard any talk? 



274 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act hi 

[He places his overcoat and hat on a chair and goes 
toward Nancy. 

Nancy. Well, Bridget Wynne isn't a gossip, but even she 
wrote to me that you and Mrs. Brice were about a good 
deal together. 

Jeffrey. Oh, she is still reporting to her senior officer. 
[^He sits at the right of the table. Nancy sits at the 
left of it. 

Nancy. Jeffrey, frankly, do you think it courteous to go 
to see Mrs. Brice a few hours after my arrival? 

Jeffrey. You were busy with your own affairs as usual. 

Nancy. I have some pride. 

Jeffrey. I don't understand. 

Nancy. I was very glad to have the excuse of letters so 
that I need not prolong your boredom at dinner. 

Jeffrey. I wasn't bored. Sorry if you were. I thought 
I was very entertaining. You'll have to make allowances 
for me. I haven't had the advantage of mingling with 
the mighty minds of two continents. 

Nancy. Jeffrey, I'd like you to be serious. 

Jeffrey. Oh, haven't we been? I think being told by 
your wife that you are a bore is fairly serious. Still if 
there's more, let's have it. 

[There is a slight pause. 

Nancy. Jeffrey, long ago we decided that if we ever came 
to the conclusion that our marriage had been a mistake 

Jeffrey. I haven't said so. 

Nancy. Words aren't necessary. Actions sometimes 

Jeffrey. When it comes to actions, I haven't forsaken 
my bed and board. 

Nancy. We needn't go into that. 

Jeffrey. Pardon me, but that is the crux of the whole 
affair. 

Nancy. Oh, no, Jeffrey, your attentions to Mrs. Brice 
are the crux of the affair. 

Jeffrey. What right have you to object to anything 
I do? 



ACT III] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 275 

Nancy. My right as your wife. 

Jeffrey. Haven't you forfeited that right? 

Nancy. How? 

Jeffrey. If you prefer the public to your husband, you 
mustn't kick at the price you have to pay. 

Nancy. Meaning that I am not to protest if you choose 
to make me conspicuous by your attentions to that woman? 
Really this is delicious. 

[She laughs, rises and goes to the desk, at which she 
sits, 

Jeffrey. Are you paying me the compliment of being 
jealous of me? 

Nancy. Jealous of a man who doesn't want me! 

Jeffrey. Oh, Nancy, you know damn well I want you. 
You may not be jealous of me, but I am of you, and of 
everything that concerns you. I'm jealous of your career 
because it takes you away from me. [He rises.] I tried 
to live up to our agreement. Haven't I the right to expect 
that you'd live up to it, too? If it was my job to provide 
the home, wasn't it your job to take care of it? Had you 
the right, be honest, Nancy, to go on this tour? You 
can't be married and be a free agent without making 
someone suffer. I'm so damned sick of my life, as I'm 
living it now — ^but there, I don't want to keep you if you 
want to be free. 

[He turns away from Nancy, who rises and follows 
him quickly. i 

Nancy. I don't want to be free. [As Jeffrey turns to 
take her in his arms, she stops him.] Oh, wait, I want 
to be honest with myself and with you. I couldn't go back 
to my life as I lived it four years ago. It isn't that I don't 
want a home. While I was in France there were glorious 
moments and honours and flattery, but there were nights 
when I was so sick of the horrors, the pain, the misery, that 
it seemed to me if I couldn't put my head on your shoul- 
der and cry out the loneliness of my heart against yours 
I couldn't go on. [Jeffrey takes her in his arms, kisses 



276 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act hi 

her.'] With death on every side I used to worry for fear 
you weren't taking care of yourself. They decorated me 
for bravery. They never knew what a corward I was about 
you. Why, on this tour the nights when I had had a great 
success and while people were crowding around me con- 
gratulating me, I'd see some wife tuck her hand through 
her husband's arm, just as I had tucked mine so many 
times through yours, and she would trot away home with 
her man and I would go to a lonely hotel room and think 
about you. Then is when I would reaUse that success 
meant nothing if I had to give up you. 

[She breaks down and cries. Jeffrey's arms are about 
her, he murmurs her name and kisses her. 

Jeffrey. Then Nancy, I've got you again. 

Nancy. Yes, and hang on to me. If I ever try to go 
away again, lock me up on bread and water. 

Jeffrey. What about this supplementary tour? 

Nancy. [Laughing in hysterical relief.'] There "ain't go- 
ing to be no tour." 

Jeffrey. Fine! When did you decide that? 

Nancy. Tonight. But don't ask me why. 

Jeffrey. I don't care a damn why, just so you're not 
going. 

[He kisses her. 

Nancy. Bless you. The first thing we'll do will be to 
get out of this hole. 

[She moves away from him. 

Jeffrey. I don't believe Sylvia will like the country. 

Nancy. She'll like it with me. She's going to have all 

the fun she's missed in four years crowded into as many 

months. It's going to be very expensive for you, darling. 

[She laughs and sits on the sofa. Jeffrey follows her 

and sits beside her. 

Jeffrey. Go as far as you like. 

Nancy. She and I are going out tomorrow and buy a lot 
of frills. And if the exchequer runs to it I want new cur- 



ACT III] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 277 

tains for the living-room and then I am going to give the 
grandest party for my two daughters! 

Jeffrey. [Pleased.] You're going to take Peggy up? 

Nancy. No, I'm going to try to make her love me, that's 
all. 

Jeffrey. She will. After that, what? Remember, 
Nancy, I don't want to tie you down to the home. 

Nancy. If you can have a career and do your duty to 
the family too, can't I? I ought to be as smart as you. 
But you'll help me find some welfare work to keep me and 
my unit out of mischief, won't you? 

Jeffrey. Sure. 

Nancy. That's settled. Oh, Jeff, you are a nice old 
thing. 

[She leans back in Ms arms. 

Jeffrey. Nancy, you're a darling. 

Nancy. [Teasingly.] And you're quite sure that I am 
as well suited to you as Angy Brice? 

Jeffrey. Oh, forget her. I discharged all my obliga- 
tions to her tonight. ' 

Nancy. I am kind of sorry for poor Angy. [A pause.] 
Obligations? What obligations? [Jeffrey does not re- 
ply. Nancy draws herself away from him, looks at him.] 
Has she any real claim on you? Tell me the truth. Tell 
me the truth. 

Jeffrey. Nancy, for God's sake, be big enough to un- 
derstand. 

Nancy. Oh! 

[She shudders away from him, rises, goes to the man- 
tel-piece and buries her face in her hands. 

Jeffrey. It was just after you had gone on this tour. 
You know how we parted. You didn't write to me. I 
was lonely, reckless. But I've never loved her. You 
won't believe it, but I've never ceased loving you. 

Ni^CY. Stop, stop. Everything you say only makes it 
more horrible. [She moves away from him across the room, 
Jeffrey rises, moves about and finally stands looking into^ 



278 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act iii 

the fireplace. There is silence. Then Nancy goes towards 
the door to her room. She stops.] I will go West and 
establish a residence. We won't drag in Mrs. Brice. Your 
lawyer will make all the necessary arrangements and com- 
municate with me. 

[She turns to go. 

Jeffrey. You're going to divorce me? 

Nancy. {Turning to him.'] You don't think I'd go on 
living with you? 

Jeffrey. Nancy, you're not going to hold me entirely to 
blame. You're not going to dodge your own responsibility? 

Nancy. For what am I responsible? 

Jeffrey. Surely you don't think my affair with Mrs. 
Brice was a greater sin against our love than your craving 
for a career? 

Nancy. And surely you are not daring to place me in 
the same category as yourself? 

Jeffrey. Why not? Do you think you can starve my 
affections, my passion, for years, without moral guilt? 

Nancy. You must be mad to think such thoughts, and 
lost to all sense of decency to express them. 

Jeffrey. I 

Nancy. I refuse to listen to anything more. All I want 
to know is, are you going to try to keep me against my will, 
or must I make a scandal to get free? [Jeffrey is silent.] 
Surely you don't want to blacken the name of the woman 
you are going to marry? 

Jeffrey. I'm not going to marry her. She knows it. I'm 
not in love with her, nor she with me. A sum of money 
will console her. 

Nancy. Your bargain with her has no interest for me. 
You may make what use of your freedom you choose. I 
mean to have mine. 

Jeffrey. Very well. My lawyer knows the amount of 
my income. You may have what you wish of it. 

Nancy. I wouldn't take any of it, were it not for Sylvia. 

Jeffrey. What do you mean? Sylvia? 



ACT III] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 279 

Nancy. Do you think I would allow her to remain with 
you? Look what your neglect has made of her. Through 
your carelessness Mr. Gillette has been allowed to intro- 
duce her to a sort of life until she is no more the child I 

sent home to you than Do you thinli when I realise 

that you are responsible that I would trust her to you 
again ? Never ! Never ! 

Jeffrey. And do you think I'm going to let you have 
her? She's the biggest thing in my life. I'll never let her 
go. 

Nancy. She's the only thing in mine. If you force me 
to do it, I'll tell her the truth about you. 

Jeffrey. So that is your threat! She is in her room, you 
say. Well, you tell her the truth about me and let her 
decide. 

[He starts toward the door to the hall. Nancy stands 
aghast. Alan rushes in, followed by Peggy. 
Alan. Dad! Mother! Where is Sylvia? 
Nancy. She is in her room. 

Alan. She is not. [To Peggy.] I was right. It was 
Sylvia in that taxicab with Gillette. [To Jeffrey.] They 
drove away just as we arrived. 

Peggy. I found this letter on Sylvia's dressing-table. 

[She gives the letter to Alan, who hands it to Jeffrey. 
Alan. For you, Dad. 

[Jeffrey takes the letter. The others watch him 
apprehensively as he opens it. 

Jeffrey. [Reading.'] "Dear Daddy — ^I " 

[He mumbles indistinctly, then, overcome by its con- 
tents, he crumples it in his hand and drops his head 
in misery. Nancy, who has been watching him in 
jear, starts toward him. She is trembling and can 
scarcely walk. Her hands are outstretched toward 
the letter. 
Nancy. [Hoarsely.] Jeff, Jeff! 

[Jeffrey looks at Nancy, then hands her the letter. 
Jeffrey. Sylvia has decided. [He riches to the tele- 



280 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act hi 

phone.] Hello, hello, give me police headquarters quickly, 

quickly. 

[Jeffrey is at the telephone, frantically calling Police 
Headqtcarters. Alan and Peggy are beside him, 
Nancy, with the letter cncshed against her breast, 
leans for support against the table. She stares 
straight ahead, her face drawn with agony, as the 

CURTAIN FALLS. 



THE FOURTH ACT 

The scene is the same as that of the previotis act. The room 
is in semi-darkness, the curtains drawn aside showing 
through the window, blurred by the drizzling rain, the 
lights of a building across the street. Two hours have 
elapsed. 

Nancy is standing at the window, peering into the street. 
Presently Peggy, a wrap over her arm, enters from 
Nancy's bedroom. Nancy, with a little cry, turns 
quickly at the sound of the closing door, then with a 
sigh of disappointment resumes her watching attitude. 
Peggy goes to her and places the wrap about her 
shoulders. 

Nancy. Thank you, Peggy dear. 

[Peggy switches on the light in the chandelier. The 
bell of the telephone on the writing-desk rings shrilly. 
Peggy rushes to it. Nancy turns sharply and dur- 
ing the telephone conversation, to which she listens 
intently, moves down and stands behind Peggy. 
Peggy. [^Excitedly .^ Hello, yes. Police Headquarters. 
Oh, yes, Tom. Any news? — None. Oh — Gillette went to 
his apartment. Was Sylvia with him then? — She waited 
outside in the taxi. You haven't any idea where they went 
from there. — ^Your men are watching all the depots and fer- 
ries. [She breaks down.] Oh, Tom, you've got to find her. 
— No. I won't. He's there with you? — Hello, Alan. Your 

mother? Why 

[Not knowing what to say, she turns to Nancy, who 
takes the telephone. Peggy bows her head on the 
desk, crying. 
Nancy. Yes, dear, I'm all right. — Don't worry about me, 

281 



282 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act iv 

there's a good boy. — ^Your father? He's gone out. I don't 
know where. — Now, Alan, dear, you mustn't give up hope. 
You'll find her. — That's better. — ^That's more like my boy. 
Of course you'll bring her back to me. I know you will. — 
That's it. Good-bye, dear. [She puts the telephone on the 
table and, smiling bravely, places her hand on Peggy's 
head.] Don't cry, Peggy dear; they'll find her. They'll 
find her. [Then, beginning to lose her self-control, she turns 
away to the window, her hands folded as though in prayer.] 
Oh, God, find her. Find her. Find her. 

[She goes to the window and, leaning against it, her face 
pressed against the panes, breaks into long shiver- 
ing sobs. Peggy goes to her and, putting her arms 
about her, leads her to the fireplace and places her 
in the couch where Nancy sits, holding out her hands 
to the blaze. Peggy kneels beside her. There is a 
pause, then Nancy loohs at the clock on the mantel, 
Nancy. It's almost twelve o'clock. 
Peggy. We'll hear some good news very soon, now. 
[Rising.] Wouldn't you like a cup of tea? [Nancy shakes 
her head.] Not if I sent for the things and made it myself? 
I make very nice tea? 

Nancy. I'm sure you do. But I couldn't. 

[There* s a pause. 
Peggy. Oh, Mrs. Fair! I wouldn't keep on reading that 
letter. 

Nancy. Oh, Peggy, I know it by heart. "I'm in every- 
body's way. Nobody wants me. Dudley does, so I'm going 
with him. . . . Sylvia." Oh, my baby! 

[She breaks down again. 
Peggy. Please don't cry — ^please! 

Nancy. No, I mustn't. I mustn't. [A slight pause.] 
Oh, if I could only do something! 

Peggy. There is nothing to do but wait. 

[She sits on the arm of the couch, her arms around 
Nancy. Again there is a pause. 



ACT iv] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 283 

Nancy. [Wildly.] Oh, Peggy, tell me again that they'll 
find her! 

Peggy. Of course they will. Now, Mrs. Fair, you 
mustn't. Please don't cry. 

Nancy. [Controlling herself.] Why are you so good to 
me? 

Peggy. [Very tenderly.] Because you're Alan's mother. 
And because you're you. 

Nancy. I don't deserve this, my dear, but I'm very grate- 
ful. 

Peggy. I've been wanting to do this ever since that day 
we hurt you so cruelly. 

[Nancy pulls Peggy's head down to her and kisses her. 
Peggy sits beside Nancy and, taking Nancy's hand 
in hers, strokes it affectionately. There is a pause. 
Both of them are lost in thought. 

Peggy. The one thing I can't understand is Sylvia's leav- 
ing her father. She would never have gone if she hadn't felt 
that in some way he had turned against her. She might have 

left 

[She stops abruptly. 

Nancy. You could understand her leaving me. I'm be- 
ginning to understand that, too. I'm beginning to see that 
he has more right to her than I have. 

Peggy. Oh, I don't mean that she doesn't love you, but 
the love Sylvia had for her father was wonderful. 

Nancy. He had earned it. 

Peggy. I don't think Mr. Fair realised it, but he didn't 
want her to love anyone more than she did him. 

Nancy. This is going to be terrible for Jeffrey. [A 
pause.] It's strange, Peggy, how one can seem to be doing 
one's duty and fail so miserably — go so hopelessly wrong. 
[A pause, then Nancy looks toward the telephone.] Queer 
they don't telephone. I wonder where Jeffrey is? If they 
don't find Sylvia 

Peggy. Oh, they will, they will. 



284 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act iv 

Nancy. [Rising.] Oh, what is her father going to do 
without her? 

Peggy. Thank God, you're here. At least, whatever hap- 
pens, he has you. 

[Nancy winces and turns away as the door opens to 
admit Jeffrey, tired, haggard. Both the women 
turn to him inquiringly. He shakes his head. Then 
places his hat and coat on the chair beside the door, 
Peggy goes to him. 
Jeffrey. Any news? 

Peggy. [Cheer jully.'] Not yet. But there will be very 
soon. 
Jeffrey. You all right, Nancy? 
Nancy. Yes, Jeffrey. 
Jeffrey. Did Alan telephone? 
Peggy. Yes, just a moment ago. 
Jeffrey. No trace of them? 

[Peggy shakes her head. Jeffrey moves slowly down 
to the chair at the desk, where he sits, brooding, 
Peggy sits in the armchair at the table. A pause, 
Jeffrey. [Savagely. 1 Curse the day the swine came into 
my house! 

Nancy. Oh, Jeff, don't make me feel my responsibility 
for it all any more than I do. I can't bear it. I can't bear 
it. 

Jeffrey. I'm so sorry, Nancy. 
Nancy. That's all right, Jeff. 

[Nancy goes to the window and looks down into the 
street, shading her eyes with her hands to cut off 
the light from the chandelier. Presently she rubs 
the moisture off the pane and peers out again. Then 
she lifts the sash and leans out, looking down into 
the street. Suddenly she gives a little start. 
Nancy. Jeff! Here comes a taxi! 

[Jeffrey and Peggy run to the window and look out 
over Nancy's shoulder. 
Peggy. [Excitedly.'] Is it stopping? 



ACT iv] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 285 

Nancy. No, it's going on. 

[Peggy and Jeffrey return to their chairs; Nancy 
remains at the window. A pause, then Jeffrey takes 
out his watch, 
Peggy. [Whispering.] What time is it? 
Jeffrey. [Whispering.] A quarter past twelve. 

[Peggy, sighing, sinks back into the chair, and after a 
moment Jeffrey turns and looks at Nancy. 
Jeffrey. Mother, you'd better come away from that win- 
dow; there is a draught. You'll take cold. [Nancy does 
not reply.] Nancy, you'll take cold. [Nancy does not 
answer. Another pause. Then Jeffrey, rising, goes to 
Peggy, touches her quietly on the shoulder.] Peggy, get 
her away from that window. I can't stand it. I can't stand 
it. 

[Profoundly moved, he walks over to the sofa and 
sits. Peggy goes to Nancy and touches her on the 
shoidder. 
Nancy. Yes, dear? 

Peggy. I wouldn't watch for them, dear. 
Nancy. No? 

Peggy. You know a watched kettle never boils. [Nancy 
smiles, but remains at the window. Peggy returns to the 
arm-chair and stands behind it.] Is it raining now, Mr. 
Fair? 

Jeffrey. Yes. 

Nancy. [Quite unemotionally.] I hope Sylvia hadn't 
on thin shoes. She takes cold so easily. At least, she used 
to. 

[Jeffrey buries his face in his hands. Peggy's lips 
quiver. Her eyes fill with tears. They wait. 
Jeffrey. Nancy, did Gillette owe you any money? 
Nancy. [Intently watching the street.] Yes, several thou- 
sand. 

Jeffrey. That's it! 

Nancy. [Indifferently.] What do you mean? 

Jeffrey. I found out from Tom Gibbs tonight that Gil- 



286 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act iv 

lette was the man who was mixed up in that Bazaar scandal. 
He has stolen your money or was going to. 
Nancy. I don't understand. 

Jeffrey. Don't you see you can't prosecute him now 
without bringing Sylvia into it? . . . Damn him! 

[It all seems of little moment to Nancy, and she turns 
again to the window. The door to the hall opens 
very softly and Alan stands in the doorway, unseen 
by Jeffrey and Nancy. Peggy, moving to sit in 
the chair, sees Alan and goes quietly to him. He 
whispers to her and she darts out and across the hall 
into Sylvia's room. He comes in quickly, closing 
the door. At the sound Nancy and Jeffrey turn. 
Jeffrey springs to his feet. 
Nancy. [With a great cry.] Alan! 
Alan. She's here. 
Jeffrey. Thank God! 

[Nancy makes a rush for the door. 
Alan. [Stopping her.] Wait, mother. What are you 
going to say to her? What are you going to do? 
Nancy. Oh, Alan, what would I do? 
Alan. I didn't know. 
Jeffrey. Where did you find her? 
Alan. At 125th Street station. They were on their way 
to Montreal. 

Jeffrey. Where is he? 

Alan. I've taken care of him. He's 

Nancy. [Hysterically, and trying to pass Alan.] What 
does it matter where he is? All that matters is that she's 
here. Don't shut her outside. Alan, do you hear me? Let 
me go to her! 
Jeffrey. Easy, Nancy, easy. 

Alan. [Taking her in his arms.] All right, mother, all 
right. But be careful — treat her very gently. 

[He goes. 
Nancy. Jeffrey, I'm giving up my claims to her. She's 
yours. So be kind to her. 



ACT IV] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 287 

[Sylvia enters, white- faced, defiant, followed by Peggy 
and Alan. Nancy rushes toward her to embrace 
her. Sylvia, stretching out her hands, stops her. 
Nancy, surprised, stunned for the moment, looks 
toward Jeffrey bewUderedly. 

Nancy. Jeff 

[Jeffrey looks at Sylvia, who looks coldly at him. 

Nancy. Won't you sit down, dear? 

Sylvia. I can take what everybody has to say, standing. 

Nancy. [Very tenderly.] Darling, don't be afraid. 

Sylvia. I'm not afraid. 

Nancy. We're not going to scold you. We're not going 
to say anything. 

Sylvia. No? Well, I am. 

Jeffrey. [Sternly.] Very well. Go on. I'm interested 
to hear what you have to say. 

Nancy. [Turning to him.] Jeff, please. 

Jeffrey. I'll handle this, Nancy. Alan, take Peggy into 
your mother's room. 

Sylvia. She needn't go. She's in on this. 

Peggy. I? 

Sylvia. You were responsible for our arrest, weren't you? 

Alan. You weren't arrested. 

Sylvia. We would have been if you hadn't been there. 

Peggy. No, no, dear. Tom would have brought you here 
to us. 

Sylvia. Oh, then, you did arrange it all? Don't you 
think, for a new member of this family, you were taking a 
good deal on yourself to 

Jeffrey. Come, come, Sylvia; it was I who got Tom 
Gibbs on the wire. You should be very grateful to Peggy 
and her brother. God knov/s we are. 

Sylvia. [Turning upon him.] I'm not. What right has 
she — what right have any of you — to butt in on my affairs? 

Nancy. Why, my dear, we all love you. 

Sylvia. You acted like it, didn't you? What have you 
all got against Dudley? 



288 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act i/ 

Alan. Sylvia, I've told you that he was an embezzler, 
and that his only idea in marrying you was to use you to 
prevent mother prosecuting him. 

Sylvia. That's what you say. Mother, has Dudley taken 
any money from you? 

Nancy. No. 

Sylvia. Well, Alan, mother ought to know. 

Alan. He confessed that he was short in his accounts. 

Sylvia. I didn't hear him. 

Alan. You weren't there when he was begging Gibbs to 
let him go. 

Sylvia. No. I was being made conspicuous, seated on a 
bench on the platform between two officers. Oh, I'll never 
forget it! 

[She puts her hands to her face as though to shut out 
the memory. Momentarily her spirit is broken. 

Nancy. [Whispering.'] Jeff, go to her now. 

Jeffrey. [Going to Sylvia.] I am sorry, dear, that all 
this had to happen — that you feel we've all conspired to 
disgrace you. But we were only trying to protect you. 

Sylvia. Protect me? If you wanted to protect me, why 
wait? You knew that I was going about with him. 

Nancy. But, Sylvia, dear, your father didn't realise the 
sort of friends that Mr. Gillette had — introduced 

Sylvia. He introduced me to the only friends he had. 
What do you know about them? You never met them. 

Jeffrey. Sylvia, I forbid you to use that tone to your 
mother. 

Nancy. Sylvia is right, Jeff. I judged them solely by 
what she told me of them. 

Sylvia. And while you were judging you passed sentence 
on Dudley, too, didn't you? You forbade my best friend 
seeing me again. 

Jeffrey. Your mother had every right to do that. 

Sylvia. She had no right to make him feel that he wasn't 
fit to associate with me, when it was she who introduced 
him to me. 



ACT iv] THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR 289 

Jeffrey. She did not know that you were associating 
with him so intimately. 

Sylvia. No. She wasn't here, was she? 

Nancy. No, Sylvia, I wasn't here. 

Jeffrey. But I was. I'm to blame. I should have 
watched over you. 

Sylvia. But you didn't care what I was doing, where I 
was going, just so you were free to run around with Mrs. 
Brice. 

[Jeffrey flinches as though he had been struck, 

Nancy. Sylvia, how dare you talk like that to your 
father? 

Alan. Haven't you any respect? Haven't you any feel- 
ing? Can't you see that you are hurting father and mother 
cruelly? 

Sylvia. Well, haven't they hurt me? 

Alan. [Indignantly.] Hurt you! You ought to be down 
on your knees, thanking them for saving you from a mar- 
riage 

Sylvia. Were you worrying about how cruelly you hurt 
mother when you told her about Peggy? Would you have 
been on your knees thanking them if they had tried to save 
you from marrying her? 

Jeffrey. Stop, Sylvia. How can you? If it hadn't been 
for Peggy 

Sylvia. I wouldn't have had to stand all this. 

Alan. You don't think it's pleasant for us, do you? 

Sylvia. There's an easy way of stopping it. 

Jeffrey. How? 

Sylvia. [Hysterically.'] Let me get out of here. 

[She makes a rush for the door. Alan stops her. 

Jeffrey. Where do you want to go? 

Sylvia. [Jerking herself away from Alan.] Anywhere 
away from all of you! Why am I dragged back here, where 
nobody loves me, wants me? 

[She throws herself in the arm-chair at the table, sob- 
bing wildly. 



290 THE FAMOUS MRS. FAIR [act iv 

Nancy. Your father loves you, wants you. 

Sylvia. A lot he loves me! He loves Angy Brice. 

Alan. Who told you this damn lie? 

Sylvm. [Sobbing.] It's not a lip. Everybody has known 
but us, that he was going to get xid of mother and marry 
Angy. 

Alan. Dad — my God! — this isn't true? 

Sylvia. [Rising.] It is true. Mother, aren't you going to 
leave Daddy? 

[There is a pause. Sylvia, Alan and Peggy are wait- 
ing for the answer. Jeffrey stands with bowed head, 

Nancy. No. 

Jeffrey. [Turning , makes an effort to speak, and finally 
articulates.] Nancy! 

[Then, overcome, he turns away to the window. 

Sylvia. [Going to Nancy.] Why, Dudley said 

That's why I went away with him. I didn't know what 
would become of me when you separated. I thought my 
Daddy had gone back on me. 

[Nancy jolds her in her arms, kissing her, J'e.^^'b:e.i 
comes to them. 

Jeffrey. Your daddy will never go back on you, if you 
will only 

Nancy. Jeff, don't make conditions; we've both been 
wrong. We must be content with whatever Sylvia wants. 

Sylvia. I only want you all to want me. 

Nancy. Oh, my dear! my dear! 

Peggy. [Snivelling.] Alan, where is Gillette? 

Alan. In an ambulance. 

[He smiles and shows his clenched fist. 



THE END 



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